– 3 months later –

May 1, 2009 – Afghan Desert

The midday sun scorched the Afghan desert, turning the dunes into a shimmering expanse of molten gold. Heat rippled off the ground in waves, distorting the horizon.

And there, in this heat, standing on a rocky ridge above the concealed entrance to the Ten Rings’ base that held Tony Stark, was Arthur Hayes. He looked utterly out of place in his crisp linen shirt and designer sunglasses – more like a man who’d wandered away from a luxury safari than someone stepping into an active war zone.

Surrounding him were two dozen armed operatives – hardened professionals, formerly gang enforcers, mercenaries, and special forces, now loyal only to the woman standing beside him.

Ariadne Anderson checked the magazine of her rifle, her expression bored.

“Hey, Arthur,” she said, nudging him.

Arthur held up a finger, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Yes, Daniel,” he said calmly into the receiver. “Proceed as planned. Buy everything.”

He ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket, turning to find Ariadne giving him a look that could only be described as fondly exasperated.

“You’re using a rescue mission to make more money,” she said flatly. “Don’t you have enough? Last I checked, you could buy countries.”

“I do,” Arthur agreed cheerfully. “But I can’t just leave easy money on the table when it’s sitting right there, begging to be taken. It’s bad business.”

“I will never understand you wealthy people,” Ariadne sighed, shaking her head. “Anyway, last chance to confirm – is all this really necessary? You could have opened a portal three months ago, grabbed Stark, and been home in time for tea. Why drag me and my people halfway across the world? I need to be back in New York before the Hand or that Kingpin fellow decides to test my boundaries.”

“No worries,” Arthur assured her. “We will be done in a couple of hours. And isn’t it more fun this way?”

He looked down at the cave entrance.

“Besides,” Arthur added, his voice lowering slightly. “I don’t want Tony to learn about the mystical world just yet.”

Ariadne raised an eyebrow. “He doesn’t know? Someone of his status should have been informed, right?”

Arthur shrugged. “You’d think so. But Tony’s so obsessed with science that he dismisses anything outside it as myth. Either no one told him, or he never bothered to ask. In any case—” a grin spread across Arthur’s face—”he’s about to get one hell of a wake-up call.”

“Poor bastard,” Ariadne said without sympathy. “So what’s the plan? Full assault?”

“No, no. Have your people create chaos. Draw attention, make noise, buy Tony time. We don’t even have to enter those maze-like caves. Just secure the perimeter. Tony will handle the inside.”

“How?” Ariadne frowned. “He’s just a normal human. No training. No powers.”

“Well,” Arthur’s smile turned mysterious. “He’s built something rather spectacular. If you perform well, maybe I can convince him to build you one.”

“Build me what?”

“Patience. You’ll see.”

—

Deep inside the cave complex, Tony Stark was doing his absolute best not to hyperventilate.

He stood with his arms outstretched as Yinsen tightened the final bolt on the monstrous, clunky suit of armor they had welded together from scrap metal and desperation. The Mark I looked more like a walking boiler than a suit, but it was all they had.

“We need more time,” Yinsen whispered, his hands shaking. “The power sequence… it’s not initializing fast enough.”

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Fists hammered against the metal door of their cell with brutal force.

“Yinsen!” a guard shouted in Hungarian. “Open up! Where is Stark?”

Tony and Yinsen froze.

—

Outside, in Arthur’s mind, a familiar voice chimed: “Master, Mr. Stark has put himself in weird metal clothes. Very heavy looking. Not fashionable at all.”

“Thank you, Winky. Keep watching. Intervene only if absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, Master.”

Arthur had positioned Winky inside the cave, invisible and vigilant, as the ultimate insurance policy.

“Ariadne,” he said aloud. “It’s time.”

She nodded. She didn’t shout, didn’t posture. She simply raised a hand… and brought it down sharply.

On the ridge, twenty suppressed rifles coughed at once.

Below, every guard posted at the cave entrance dropped before they even realized they’d been hit. Shouts erupted. Alarms screamed to life. The base plunged into chaos instantly.

“Keep it up!” Ariadne commanded. “Keep them pinned! Draw every last one of them out!”

Her team opened up with heavier machine guns, raking the entrance of the cave, ensuring every terrorist inside knew they were under attack.

—

Inside the cave, the guards pounding on Tony’s door froze as the thunder of gunfire echoed down the tunnel.

“Attack!” someone shouted from deeper inside. “We are under attack! Americans!”

The men at Tony’s door traded panicked shouts, abandoned their attempt to breach the cell, and sprinted back toward the entrance to join the fight.

“What was that?” Yinsen whispered.

“Maybe rescue,” Tony said, voice muffled behind the helmet. “But we can’t count on it. How much longer?”

The laptop’s progress bar crawled forward.

49%… 50%…

Outside, the chaos grew louder – shouts, gunfire, metal clattering.

96%… 97%…

Suddenly, the heavy door erupted in a burst of fire and debris. Tony and Yinsen’s makeshift trap detonated, flinging the first group of terrorists off their feet. Yet through the billowing smoke, more figures surged forward, rifles snapping up—

100%.

“Now or never,” Tony muttered.

The gunmen surged into the room, clearly planning to drag Tony out as a hostage against the attackers outside.

They expected a cowering billionaire.

What they found was a monster of iron and fire.

Tony swung a massive, hydraulic-assisted arm. The first terrorist went flying across the room, crumpling against the stone wall like a ragdoll.

“SHOOT!”

The terrorists pulled their triggers, but the bullets sparked harmlessly off the crude armor plating.

Tony stepped forward, the floor shaking under the weight of the Mark I. He threw another punch, sending a second man flying. One tried to run—Tony’s metal hand caught him, tossing him into the wall with a sickening crunch.

“Ooh, Mr. Stark is being very violent!” Winky reported excitedly. “Making bad men fly!”

“Good. Stay hidden.”

Tony became a walking hurricane of destruction.

He stomped through the corridors, each footstep shaking dust from the ceiling. Terrorists fired frantically, accomplishing nothing except depleting their ammunition. Tony’s metal fists were hammers, his body an unstoppable battering ram.

He punched through a wooden door like it was paper. He grabbed a rocket launcher from a terrified guard and used it as a club.

Tony moved with singular purpose, clearing the tunnels, ensuring no one remained behind him to threaten Yinsen.

Soon, the caves were silent behind him. He expected another wave of resistance at the entrance, but none came.

Confused, Tony reached the mouth of the cave.

He took a deep breath of fresh air and burst into the sunlight, arms raised, repulsors charging, ready for the final battle—

And stopped dead.

The base was already secured. Bodies scattered across the sand, all Ten Rings. Tactical operatives moved through the area with efficient precision, checking for survivors. The fight was long over.

And standing in the middle of the chaos was a man in a linen shirt, holding up a DSLR camera.

“Smile for the camera.”

FLASH.

The strobe was blinding even through the helmet slit.

The Mark I’s servos whined as Tony froze in total confusion.

“Arthur?” Tony’s voice came through the external speakers, distorted and shocked.

Arthur lowered the camera, flashing a grin. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”

Tony stood there for a second, processing. Then, the faceplate of the Mark I hissed and popped open, revealing a soot-covered, exhausted face trying to process the impossible.

“Nice outfit.” Arthur said casually, as if they were meeting for drinks. “Very retro-futurist. The exposed wiring is a bold aesthetic choice.”

“What… how are you here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Arthur said with a shrug. “Thought I’d stop by, see how you were doing.”

“In the neighborhood,” Tony repeated flatly. “In Afghanistan. In the middle of nowhere.”

“It’s a small world.”

“Who… who are they?” Tony asked, gesturing with a clunky metal hand toward the mercenaries.

“Friends,” Arthur said. He gestured to Ariadne, who walked over with her rifle slung over her shoulder. “Tony, this is Ariadne Anderson. She runs the best private security firm in Europe. If you ever need bodyguards who actually shoot back, call her.”

“Stark,” Ariadne nodded coolly. “Heard a lot about you.”

“All terrible, I’m sure,” Tony said automatically, his charm reflex still functional despite everything.

“Most of it,” she agreed. “But Arthur says deep inside, you are a good man.”

“High praise,” Tony muttered. “Thank…”

Arthur cut him off, turning toward the cave. “You can come out now. It’s safe.”

Ho Yinsen emerged, blinking in the sunlight, carrying a bag of Tony’s few possessions. He looked between the metal giant and the man in the linen shirt with utter bewilderment.

“Yinsen, meet Arthur Hayes,” Tony said, still processing. “Apparently he just happened to be passing by. Arthur, Dr. Ho Yinsen. He saved my life.”

Arthur grinned as he offered his hand. “Hello, Dr. Yinsen. Saving Tony? That’s a big favor. Remember, he’s rich – make him bleed for it.”

“Arthur!” Tony snapped.

Yinsen chuckled softly, shaking the hand. “No. Saving him also saved me, in a way.”

“Then I’m glad you both survived,” Arthur said warmly. “Ready to leave this depressing sandbox?”

Tony didn’t reply immediately. He looked around at the base, at the crates of weapons stamped with his name.

“I’m not leaving yet,” Tony growled.

“Why?” Arthur asked, though his eyes sparkled with knowing amusement.

“I want this place to burn,” Tony said, his voice hard. “I need to release some anger.”

Arthur nodded approvingly. “Ariadne, pull your people back to the vehicles. Yinsen, you’re with us.”

As the fighters efficiently withdrew to a safe distance, Tony slammed the faceplate shut.

—

Tony stood alone in the terrorists’ arsenal, surrounded by crates stamped with a familiar logo.

Stark Industries.

His jaw tightened. He activated the Mark I’s flamethrower.

A torrent of fire roared from his arm, flooding the room in blinding orange. Ammunition began cooking off – small pops at first, then deeper, rolling detonations. Tony moved steadily, ensuring nothing remained intact, nothing could ever be used again.

As flames consumed the stockpile, secondary explosions began to ripple through the canyon. The chain reaction was underway.

“Time to leave,” Tony muttered, pressing the controls on his wrist.

The primitive boot thrusters ignited. The force nearly wrenched him sideways, but the suit held as Tony rocketed upward with all the elegance of a fridge strapped to fireworks.

For thirty glorious seconds, he was flying – actually flying – desert stretching beneath him like an endless tan sea.

Then the thrusters sputtered and died.

“Oh, shi—”

He plummeted, hitting a sand dune at sixty miles per hour. The suit exploded apart on impact, pieces scattering across the sand. Tony rolled to a stop, gasping, miraculously alive and mostly unbroken.

By the time he struggled to his feet, spitting out grit, Arthur’s vehicle had arrived.

“Need a ride?” Arthur asked, leaning out the window.

“Fuck you,” Tony gasped, but he was smiling.

Yinsen hurried to his side, checking him over.

“I’m fine, Yinsen,” Tony said, though the wince suggested otherwise. He turned to look at the twisted pile of metal that had been his ticket to survival.

“Want to take it?” Arthur asked, nudging a chunk of the helmet with his shoe. “A souvenir?”

“No,” Tony said, spitting out sand. “Leave it. It’s scrap. Too heavy.”

“Fair enough.”

—

The U.S. military base appeared like a mirage becoming real, guard towers and concrete solidifying out of heat shimmer. The convoy stopped at the gates, soldiers shouting, weapons raised – until a familiar figure stumbled out of the lead vehicle.

“TONY!”

James Rhodes ran straight to the car and pulled Tony into a crushing hug. Under normal circumstances, Tony would’ve protested. Right now? He didn’t have enough dignity left to bother.

“Jesus Christ, Tony, we thought—I thought—”

“I’m okay, Rhodey,” Tony said quietly. “I’m okay.”

Rhodes pulled back, taking in Tony’s appearance – the weight loss, the strange glow from his chest, the haunted eyes. “What did they do to you?”

“Long story.” Tony glanced back at Arthur and Ariadne. “These are the people who pulled me out.”

“Colonel Rhodes,” Arthur said politely. “A pleasure. We’ll leave Tony in your hands. Dr. Yinsen as well – take care of him.”

“Wait,” Rhodes said. “We need statements, debriefs—”

“No time for that,” Arthur said smoothly. “Private contractors, you understand. Paperwork complications. Just tell them he escaped on foot.”

Before Rhodes could protest further, Arthur and Ariadne were back in their vehicles, disappearing into the desert heat.

—

Five miles from the base, safely beyond any surveillance, Arthur pulled over.

“This was… interesting.” Ariadne said simply, leaning back in her seat.

“Told you it would be fun.”

“Your definition of fun remains concerning.” She paused. “He really built that thing in a cave?”

“With a box of scraps,” Arthur confirmed. “Wait till you see what he can build with a proper lab.”

Ariadne’s eyes lit up. “Can’t wait. I want a lighter version.”

Arthur chuckled. “I can arrange that.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Arthur stepped out of the vehicle and raised his hand. The air split open—a massive, golden portal leading directly to the interior of Ariadne’s warehouse in New York.

“Go,” Arthur said. “I have one last errand.”

Ariadne nodded and led her team through.

As the last vehicle vanished, Arthur closed the portal. Then he Apparated.

He reappeared at the crash site of the Mark I.

Leaving such a historic artifact to rust – or worse, be scavenged – was unacceptable.

Besides, it was a souvenir worth collecting. Maybe he’d rebuild it and put it on display at home, just to annoy Tony.

Arthur raised his hand and cast a silent Accio.

Every bolt, every plate, every wire flew into a neat pile. He then opened a small portal to his secure storage vault beneath his manor and levitated the entire collection through.

Next, he Apparated back to the cave entrance.

The fire Tony had started was dying down, but the base was a ruin. Arthur walked through the smoke, casting a wide-area sensory charm.

He confirmed there were no survivors. Tony and Ariadne’s team had been thorough. But Arthur was a perfectionist.

He raised his hand one last time, channeling a heavy earth tremor spell.

With a deep rumble, the cave network collapsed in on itself, burying the Ten Rings’ secrets under tons of rock and sand. No one would be salvaging anything from here.

“Clean slate,” Arthur said, satisfied.

With one last glance at the wreckage of Tony Stark’s old life, Arthur turned and Apparated away.

The desert fell silent again, leaving only the wind to whisper over the secrets buried in the sand.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep