Jackson set up the tripod, turned on the Sony camera, and sat properly in his chair, waiting for the actor who had played the leader of the Ten Rings to arrive:
"My name is Jackson Norriss. Today will be the most important day of my career. I'm about to interview America's most terrifying and ridiculous criminal. The world believed he was the terrorist called 'the Mandarin', but now, it's said he was merely an actor. So far, this interviewee has been evasive and clearly hasn't grasped the focus of my questions. In fact, he seems oblivious to everything except his growing fame."
"...Now, the whole world knows his name. This is my last chance to see through his lies and excuses, to confront him with his past and uncover the truth. Because we need to know, once and for all... Who is Trevor Slattery?"
He was a staff member from ABC News, here specifically to interview Trevor Slattery... a no-name third-rate actor who had become a household name by portraying the infamous terrorist leader.
After waiting less than twenty minutes, Trevor, clad in a yellow prison jumpsuit, entered the private cell...
Thanks to his cooperation with authorities, the judge had shown leniency, granting him special treatment; a spacious, clean, and solitary cell decorated like an actor's dressing room, complete with the Mandarin's costume hanging on the wall. Compared to other inmates, this was practically a presidential suite.
The short and scrawny old man was followed by a tall burly man named Herman, his devoted fan and self-appointed bodyguard, responsible for protecting him, fetching meals, and cleaning.
Surprisingly, after being imprisoned, this third-rate actor had managed to charm many with his silver tongue and penchant for theatrics. Far from being bullied, he lived quite comfortably under the protection of the prison's gangs.
"Let's begin when you're ready," Jackson checked his watch.
Behind him, four guards sat by the door.
Even though nearly a month had passed since the president's death, the Ten Rings and the Mandarin remained hot topics of conversation. People loved discussing Trevor Slattery, the washed-up actor who had played a terrorist, and the deceased tech mogul.
The Daily Bugle had even dedicated a column to Aldrich Killian's twisted and tragic life, which they naturally embellished for dramatic effect.
The story painted Killian, the mastermind behind the presidential assassination and the terrorist organization, as a pitiable figure who had suffered discrimination and bullying in his youth, harboring an unhealthy obsession with Tony Stark before descending into crime due to psychological issues.
The sensationalized narrative had boosted the paper's sales significantly.
"Let me do some vocal warm-ups first. Old habit from my stage days," Trevor twisted his waist and made strange noises, like a clown.
"At the very beginning, you could never have imagined ending up like this," Jackson said, watching the old man's antics with disdain.
Before the truth came out, who would have guessed the leader of the Ten Rings was this grinning old man? There was no trace of the imposing and sinister presence from the videos.
"Many people want to know the real you behind those videos. The real Trevor Slattery. You know there's a lot of internet gossip and tabloid speculation, but very little about you personally." Jackson studied the old man stroking his beard, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"I think actors should maintain some mystery. Otherwise, it ruins the audience's perception," Trevor replied carefree, lost in his own world.
His failed acting career had left this washed-up third-rate actor addicted to drugs and alcohol until Killian discovered him and turned him into a puppet.
If not for his sliver of conscience and the realization that he was expendable, he might have been discarded by Killian. Instead, he had spilled everything he knew to Tony Stark in time.
This move had earned him special treatment, sparing him from the dark and brutal fate of other inmates...
"You seem to attribute your life to a series of missed opportunities, refusing to take responsibility for any of them."
Over the next ten minutes of interviewing, Trevor remained as evasive as ever. He dodged questions like a seasoned conman, leaving no openings.
"Did you ever consider that your performance might anger certain people? Like the actual Ten Rings?"
"That's all fucking fake! There's no Mandarin, no Ten Rings!" Trevor swore without hesitation.
Jackson stood up, removed his brown suit jacket, and pressed a button on the camera.
Its internal components whirred and reassembled into a compact handgun.
"Perhaps you don't know this, but the Ten Rings and the Mandarin do exist. More accurately, it should be the Mandarin," the young reporter said, switching to Mandarin, "He is a warlord, a descendant of Genghis Khan, said to have founded the Ten Rings in the Middle Ages, perhaps even earlier..."
"Who the hell cares, man! Because of my performance, people won't remember the Mandarin. They'll remember this name... Trevor Slattery!" Trevor struck a pose for the camera like an old rogue.
He couldn't care less about the Mandarin or the Ten Rings.
Jackson's gaze turned cold, "Perhaps you're right. But soon, you'll regret this deeply. Every ring we believe in will leave a corresponding hole in your body."
The hidden pistol inside the Sony camera ejected, and he snatched it up, firing four shots in rapid succession, killing the guards. The burly Herman charged at him, but Jackson whipped out a retractable baton from the tripod and knocked him to the ground.
"Target secured. In position. Extraction team, move out." Jackson spoke into a tiny communicator on his wristwatch.
He picked up a guard's pistol, then aimed it at Trevor who was cowering under the table. On his exposed arm was the tattoo of the Ten Rings... ten interlinked rings with two crossed scimitars.
"Relax, I'm not here to kill you. Though I'd love to put ten holes in you for insulting the esteemed Mandarin," Jackson said coldly, "You stole his name, and I intend to take it back."
Then, Jackson lowered the gun, "But the Mandarin needs a stand-in. So you get to live, to continue your work, Mr. Slattery."
Chaos erupted in the prison. Alarms blared, gunfire echoed, and explosions lit up the halls as heavily armed terrorists stormed the facility.
"Now, I'm taking you to meet the real Mandarin..."