The next morning, a Quinjet skimmed low over the Middle Eastern desert.
Inside the cabin, a middle-aged agent pointed through the viewport. "That's the last known location of Tony Stark. The politics here are a minefield, so no big search parties. We go in quiet."
Daniel gave a lazy thumbs-up. "Relax, Village Chief. Low-profile is my middle name."
"I've told you a hundred times, I'm Agent Coulson, not some 'Village Chief.'"
"Quit acting. I can literally see the floating title above your head: ‹Novice Village Chief›."
"…"
Coulson instinctively touched his bald spot, expression collapsing into resignation.
He'd studied Daniel's file inside out.
Top graduate from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. Two months on the job. Forty-eight completed missions. Zero failures. Zero backup requests. Zero retreat plans.
Promoted to Level 5 faster than anyone in history.
The man was a walking performance review nightmare, in the best and worst ways.
There was, of course, the small issue of his methods.
One infiltration op: ninety-seven soldiers, two guard dogs, all erased. No alarms. No witnesses. Fury buried the report so deep it needed its own zip code.
When the Director chewed him out, Daniel's defense was simple:
"Perfect stealth means zero loose ends. Even the dogs could've barked."
Flawless logic. Terrifying logic.
The psych eval screamed "delusional disorder: believes reality is an MMORPG, everyone else is an NPC, he's the only player."
Normally that gets you a padded room and a lifetime tracker.
But when one agent single-handedly clears the entire department's quarterly targets, certain blind eyes get turned.
Coulson sighed. "If the plan's set, I'll tell the pilot to find a drop zone."
"No need."
Daniel hit the cabin-door button.
Coulson lunged. "We're at four hundred meters! You're not wearing a—"
"Geronimo!"
Daniel spread his arms and dove out like a kid jumping into a pool.
Coulson stared at the empty doorway, mouth open.
…
Sand rushed up.
Wind screamed.
Daniel flipped mid-air, crossed his arms over his chest, and grinned.
Three… two… one…
Poof.
A perfectly placed, suspiciously fresh haystack materialized beneath him.
BOOMF!
He crashed into it, rolled out, dusted the straw off his jacket, and stood up without a scratch.
Skill: Leap of Faith
Effect: A haystack always appears when falling from height. 100% fall-damage immunity.
Note: Nothing is true, everything is permitted.
Ever since unlocking it, every tall place whispered sweet nothings.
Daniel glanced around the endless dunes. "System, mark the quest target."
A glowing gold dot popped onto his minimap.
"Sweet, not far."
He started jogging.
…
Forty minutes later.
Daniel crouched on a ridge overlooking a hidden valley.
Below: a scrappy terrorist camp. Sandbags, barbed wire, Stark Industries crates, at least forty armed guards. The gold marker blinked inside a cave at the far end, entrance guarded like a dragon's hoard.
Front door = suicide parade.
Daniel smirked. "Time for the back door."
…
Inside the cave.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew as Tony Stark hammered the final faceplate.
Yinsen wiped sweat from his brow. "Core systems are ready. Just final assembly and boot-up."
"We're out of time," Tony rasped. "They're getting antsy. Suit up fast."
"You first. When I start shooting, you stay here until the path is clear."
Tony locked the last chest plate into place with a heavy clunk.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
A rhythmic digging noise came from directly under their boots.
Tony froze. "Please tell me that's you doing construction."
The stone floor two meters away simply… vanished.
A neat, square, one-meter hole appeared like someone hit delete.
Then a head popped up, eyes locking straight onto Tony.
"Found you."