Chapter 5: Saving Tony Stark
Location: Afghanistan.
The sun hung in the sky like a blowtorch aimed directly at the earth. Below it, an ocean of sand stretched in every direction — vast, golden, and absolutely merciless.
Three figures and one dog trudged across the dunes.
"Ethan." Wade's voice was ragged, his red suit dark with sweat stains. "Your dog. Is he actually — ptooey —" He spat sand out of his mask. "Is he actually tracking anything, or are we just walking in circles until we die? Because I'm fine with honesty at this point."
"You've at least got a mask!" Pietro had his goggles pulled down tight, squinting against the glare. "Some of us are out here getting slow-roasted like rotisserie chickens!"
"Bark bark bark... it's in this area... somewhere... I'm dying..." Deadpool Dog's tongue was hanging out so far it was practically dragging in the sand.
"Just hang in there," Ethan said, shielding his eyes with one hand. "If this were easy, they wouldn't be paying us a hundred million dollars to do it. Unless one of you has a better plan?"
Silence. Nothing but the sound of boots crunching through sand.
Ethan knew Tony Stark was somewhere in the Afghan desert — the plot told him that much. But knowing "somewhere in the desert" and finding someone in the desert were two very different things. Afghanistan had a lot of desert.
A lot of desert.
Two days earlier. Hell's Kitchen.
Happy Hogan had shown up at the Lucky Dragon that evening, carrying a metal briefcase like it contained nuclear launch codes.
"Mr. Cross, here's everything you asked for. These are all items Tony Stark used recently."
He clicked the case open. Inside: a pair of worn leather slippers, an expensive wristwatch, and a small plastic bag containing a tuft of dark hair.
Ethan looked the items over and gave a satisfied nod. "This is perfect. With these, I can track him."
Pepper Potts had clearly taken his request seriously — or rather, she took Tony Stark seriously. She hadn't just sent personal effects; she'd collected stray hairs from his pillow. The woman had literally combed the man's bed for biological trace material.
Marvel's ultimate power couple, Ethan thought. Good for them.
Happy visibly sagged with relief. Then he stepped forward, placed a hand on Ethan's shoulder, and bowed — a full, deep bow.
"Please. I'm begging you. Bring Mr. Stark home." His voice cracked. "I'm his head of security, and I... I couldn't protect him. I'm useless."
The guilt on Happy's round face was so raw and genuine that Ethan dropped the mercenary act for a moment.
"Hey. Look at me." Ethan's voice was firm but kind. "What happened to Mr. Stark is not your fault. You're a good man and a loyal bodyguard. It's good to meet you, Happy."
Seriously though, Ethan thought behind the warm smile, even if you'd been there — what were you going to do against the Ten Rings? Tony Stark is alive because he's useful to them. You would've been a speed bump. They'd have dropped you before you got the safety off.
"Thanks, man. That... that means a lot." Happy sniffed, rubbing his nose. "You're a good guy, Ethan. Even if your prices are kinda insane."
A chime rang through Ethan's mind.
「DING!」
「Congratulations, Host! Happy Hogan has been added as a friend!」
「Attribute Gained: Driving Mastery Lv.6!」
「Integrate immediately?」
So the big guy's not totally useless after all.
"Integrate. Now."
A flood of automotive knowledge poured into Ethan's brain — defensive driving techniques, pursuit maneuvers, high-speed cornering, vehicle control in adverse conditions. Years of professional driving experience downloaded in seconds.
Ethan looked at Happy, and the man suddenly seemed a lot more endearing.
After Happy left, Ethan grabbed the briefcase and walked it over to Deadpool Dog, who was lying in his usual spot by the front door.
"Alright, Wilson. Time to earn your keep." He set the case down in front of the mutt. "Spend the next two days memorizing every scent in here. You're our GPS to the money man."
Back in the desert. Present.
A blast of scorching wind ripped across the dunes, snapping Ethan back to reality. The dry heat hit his face like opening an oven door.
He glanced at Wade, who was shuffling along with both arms dangling limply at his sides, looking like a red popsicle that had been left on a dashboard.
"Real talk — isn't that spandex suit unbearable in this heat?"
"Shut. Up." Wade's voice was barely above a whisper. "This is my look. You wouldn't understand. Just... find the guy. I'm going to need hazard pay. I'm going to need so much hazard pay."
"Oh, you're suffering?" Pietro shifted the massive rucksack on his back, his face a mask of indignation behind his goggles. "Why am I the one carrying all the gear?! You two are walking around with nothing! This is discrimination!"
"It's called training, Pietro." Ethan strolled along at a comfortable pace, looking suspiciously unbothered by the heat. "Look at you — your combat stats are tragic. A little rucking builds character. And no superpowers. I mean it."
He scanned the horizon. "Besides, we should be close to the ambush site. Wherever they're holding Stark can't be too far from here."
Pietro groaned under the weight of the pack. "Fine. I'll do the training. But answer me this —" He fixed Ethan with a look of pure exasperation. "Why didn't we drive? It's a DESERT, Ethan! How long are we supposed to just walk?!"
The question hung in the hot air like an accusation.
Ethan did not answer it.
Meanwhile.
Somewhere in the Afghan mountains — inside a cave that no satellite, no drone, and no scanner on earth could detect — Tony Stark was working.
Blueprints covered every flat surface. A miniaturized reactor sat on the workbench beside him, glowing faintly blue.
A balding man with wire-rim glasses leaned over the reactor, studying it with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. "This... isn't the Jericho missile, is it?"
This was Yinsen.
Tony didn't look up from his drawings. "No. It's a miniaturized arc reactor. I've got a full-sized one back home — powers the whole factory."
He tapped the device embedded in his chest. "This one just needs to be strong enough to keep the shrapnel from reaching my heart."
Yinsen's eyes widened. "What's its power output? Is it enough for... just the electromagnet?"
"Enough for that and then some." Tony finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt — but behind the exhaustion, something was burning. "Stop staring at the reactor. Look at this."
He pushed the blueprints toward Yinsen.
Yinsen picked them up. Studied them. Turned them sideways. Squinted.
"What... am I looking at? It looks almost like... a robot?"
Tony reached over and rearranged the scattered pages, clicking them together like puzzle pieces.
The full image emerged: a suit of armor. Head to toe. Weaponized.
"Oh my God." Yinsen breathed. "That's... that's brilliant."
In that moment, looking at Tony Stark — filthy, starving, imprisoned in a cave at the edge of the world, and somehow still inventing his way out — Yinsen understood something. He wasn't locked in here with a hostage. He was locked in here with a genius.
Then reality snapped back. He glanced at the security camera in the corner and lowered his voice.
"They're watching us. If they figure out what this actually is —"
"I know." Tony's voice dropped to barely a murmur. "I need your help, Yinsen. I can build this thing alone, but it'll take too long. These guys aren't going to give us that kind of time. So I need an extra pair of hands."
Yinsen hesitated. "If they find out... you know what happens to us."
"I do."
"And the materials? We'd need —"
"Already handled." Tony stood up and walked to the heavy metal door. He banged on it twice. A masked guard appeared on the other side.
"Tell your boss I want a meeting," Tony said, his voice carrying the casual authority of a man who'd spent his entire life being the most important person in every room. "I'll build his missile. But I need the right materials. All of them."
The guard stared. Then disappeared.
Yinsen watched Tony's back — the set of his shoulders, the absolute certainty in every movement — and felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.
This man is a genius. A real, honest-to-God genius. Even in a situation like this, he's already three steps ahead.
If anyone could build a way out of hell with nothing but scraps and willpower, it was Tony Stark.
Maybe, Yinsen allowed himself to think, we actually get out of here.