AutumnXd
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CHAPTER 18
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 15:23:00 +0000 UTCUnder the punishing Afghan sun, Tony Stark was in his element. He stood before a crowd of US military brass and Afghan warlords, a rockstar on a stage of sand and steel.
"They say the best weapon is one you never have to fire," he began, his voice oozing charisma. "I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once." He gestured grandly. "Behold, the Jericho!"
At his signal, the missile system adjusted with a hydraulic hiss. A single rocket screamed into the sky, dragging a pristine white tail against the harsh blue. It soared toward the distant mountains, then blossomed, releasing dozens of smaller, smarter missiles that arced downward, covering the entire mountainside in a blanket of targeted destruction. A moment of silence, then the shockwave hit them—a physical punch of displaced air, followed by a deafening, rolling thunder that echoed through the valley.
Aidan, watching from a safe distance, squinted against the brilliant, blossoming fireballs. The pinnacle of destructive engineering, he thought, a cold knot forming in his stomach. Awe-inspiring and utterly obscene. He took a sip of a refrigerated soda, the sweet taste a bizarre contrast to the scene of devastation.
"So, what do you think, kid?" Tony asked, appearing at his side with a glass of scotch, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
"It's… very effective," Aidan said, his tone carefully neutral.
Tony laughed, a loud, booming sound. "I just made five hundred million dollars on that fireworks display. That doesn't give you any ideas?"
"No," Aidan replied. "I don't think a Baymax unit could ever be that profitable."
"Well… that's true," Tony conceded. "But when your intelligent system is mature, if you choose to sell through Stark Industries, I can guarantee you a very generous profit share."
"I'll keep that in mind," Aidan said, deflecting.
At that moment, Tony's satellite phone rang. He glanced at the screen. "Obie. What's up?"
Obadiah Stane's face appeared on the small screen, propped up on a pillow. "Couldn't sleep without knowing the result, Tony. How did it go?" Just one last look, Obadiah thought, a predatory sense of finality washing over him.
"It was Christmas in July, Obie. They loved it," Tony beamed. "And this kid, Aidan? His new stuff is incredible."
"That's wonderful to hear," Obadiah said smoothly. "Well, goodnight, Tony." The screen went blank.
The convoy of military jeeps was soon ready to depart. "I'm taking the lead car," Tony announced, heading for the front vehicle.
"Tony, no," Rhodey intercepted him, his face serious. "You know the protocol. The lead and rear positions are the most vulnerable. You ride with me in the middle."
"Relax, Rhodey. It's my 'let's go crazy' jeep!" Tony said, clapping him on the shoulder before hopping in and slamming the door.
Aidan, meanwhile, calmly walked to the jeep in the middle of the convoy, placing his large suitcase inside. He would not be sharing a car with Tony Stark today. This is his story, not mine, he thought, a cold pragmatism settling over him. He has to fall to become who he's meant to be. This is his nirvana. My role comes later. Without this capture, Tony would never shut down the weapons division. Without the company's stock plummeting, Aidan would never be able to acquire the shares he needed. He settled into his seat, adjusted the neural-transmitter headband under his hair, and discreetly activated his super-sensor suite and the microbots in his case.
The convoy rumbled through the desolate mountain pass. The drive was hot and tense. Suddenly, Aidan's sensors flared with warnings. "Ambush ahead," he said calmly to the soldier next to him.
The soldier looked at him, confused. "What's he doing?" he muttered to his companion.
Before anyone could react, the world exploded. The lead jeep—Tony's jeep—was engulfed in a massive fireball. Intense gunfire erupted from the surrounding ridges, tearing into the convoy.
"Attack! We're under attack!"
The soldiers in Aidan's jeep scrambled to fight back. "Kid, stay in the car!" one of them, a young man named Tommy, shouted before rushing out into the hail of bullets. He didn't get five feet before he was cut down.
Aidan didn't hesitate. The suitcase burst open. A black tide of microbots flowed over his body, hardening into a bulky, utilitarian cocoon of armor. A small, powerful thruster on his back ignited with a deep whoomp, launching his armored form like a missile out of the jeep's open door. He shot out of the kill zone in a blur of motion, a blue streamer of energy trailing behind him. The terrorists on the ridge stared in stunned disbelief as he vanished over the horizon.
The battle was over quickly. Tony, bleeding and unconscious, was dragged from the wreckage of his jeep. The Ten Rings Gang, recognizing the prize they had just stumbled upon, immediately ceased their attack and took him captive.
In a dim, cold cave, Tony Stark woke to a living nightmare. A crude electromagnet was wired into his chest, powered by a car battery. A gentle-voiced doctor named Yinsen explained that it was the only thing keeping the shrapnel in his bloodstream from reaching his heart. Soon after, the terrorist leader arrived, demanding Tony build them a Jericho missile. Tony refused, only to be brutally waterboarded until he relented. He was no longer a billionaire; he was a prisoner, his life held together by a car battery.
"I know everyone is looking for you, Stark," Yinsen said later, as they sat by a small fire. "But they will never find you in these mountains. Your life's work, all your weapons, are in the hands of these murderers. Is this to be your legacy? Or are you going to do something?"
"Do what?" Tony said, his voice hollow with despair. "They'll kill me no matter what I do. And this battery won't last a week."
"Then it is a crucial week, is it not?" Yinsen said, his voice firm.
Tony stared at the flickering light of the fire, then at the glowing electromagnet in his chest, powered by the crude battery. An idea, impossible and brilliant, sparked in his mind. The next day, he began to work, not on a missile, but on something much smaller, and infinitely more powerful.
After escaping, Aidan found a small, dusty town, recharged his gear, and activated the tracker. It was a tiny magnetic drone, no bigger than a fly, that he had "accidentally" brushed against Tony's jacket on the plane. He found the coordinates. Then, using a secure, untraceable satellite phone, he sent a single, anonymous text message to Pepper Potts. It contained only two things:
[GPS COORDINATES] T.S. - ALIVE
In the frantic, desperate command center at Bagram Airfield, Pepper's phone vibrated. She looked at the cryptic message, her heart leaping into her throat. She immediately showed it to a grim-faced Rhodey.
"It's been days, we have nothing," she said, her voice shaking. "What if this is real?"
Rhodey looked at the coordinates, his expression hard. "Whether it's real or a trap, it's the only lead we have," he declared, turning to a nearby officer. "Prep a chopper. Now."
