Fraternity Headquarters – New York
Smith pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Fox, I need you in my office."
She arrived within minutes, closing the door behind her with practiced efficiency.
Smith slid a business card across the desk. "Pepper Potts, she's Tony Stark's personal assistant. Contact her and send over Bulma's equipment list. Everything that's difficult to acquire through normal channels, up to one hundred million dollars in value."
Fox picked up the card, her eyebrows rising slightly. "We're using their channels?"
"No. They hired us to rescue someone. This equipment is part of the payment."
Fox's expression shifted to surprise. The Fraternity moved significant money, millions annually, but one hundred million for a single job was extraordinary. "Who's worth that kind of price tag?"
"Tony Stark."
Understanding dawned immediately. "The weapons manufacturer. That makes sense, he's personally worth billions." She paused. "What happened to him?"
Smith leaned back in his chair. "Kidnapped in Afghanistan about two and a half months ago. Military search operations failed. Pepper's desperate enough to hire us."
Fox nodded, already mentally organizing the logistics. Then Smith added, "There's something else. Stark Industries stock is going to continue declining. Use Fraternity liquid assets to short the company, do it carefully, avoid drawing attention."
Fox's confusion was evident. "If we're rescuing their CEO, why would their stock value drop?"
Smith offered a slight smile. "Just follow the instructions. I'll tell you when to close the short position and when to go long."
When Tony announces he's shutting down weapons manufacturing, the stock will crater. When he reveals he's Iron Man and starts making breakthroughs, it'll soar. Might as well profit from both swings.
Fox accepted the non-answer with professional grace. "Understood. Do you need personnel deployed to Afghanistan for the rescue operation? We don't have many assets in that region."
Smith shook his head. "The situation there is too complex. Large-scale deployment would be ineffective, if it wasn't, the military would have already found him. I'll handle this personally."
"The compensation they're offering makes it worth the trip."
Fox studied him for a moment, then nodded. With Smith's capabilities, his personal safety wasn't a concern. "I'll coordinate with Ms. Potts and arrange the transactions."
Afghanistan – The Next Day
Smith stepped off the transport plane into Kabul's oppressive heat. The airport buzzed with controlled chaos, military personnel, contractors, aid workers, and locals all moving with the wary tension of people living in a war zone.
The smell hit him immediately. Dust, vehicle exhaust, and underneath it all, the acrid tang of old smoke and gunpowder. Afghanistan wore its violence like a second skin.
A nondescript armored SUV waited near the terminal, one of the Fraternity's few assets in the region. The driver nodded respectfully as Smith approached.
"Sir. We're ready to take you to the attack site."
Smith climbed into the passenger seat, and they departed without fanfare. The city streets gave way to highway, then the highway gave way to desert roads. An hour later, they arrived at a stretch of pockmarked asphalt where scorched earth and bullet holes still marked the ground.
The driver stopped the vehicle. "This is where Tony Stark's convoy was hit."
Smith exited and surveyed the scene. Two and a half months had passed, any useful forensic evidence was long gone, scattered by wind and contaminated by traffic. The military had lifted its cordon weeks ago.
Smith turned to the driver. "Head back. I'll call if I need extraction."
The driver hesitated. "Sir, are you certain? The desert's dangerous, and, "
"I'm certain." Smith's tone left no room for argument.
"Yes, sir." The driver climbed back into the SUV and departed, kicking up a plume of dust as he accelerated away.
Smith waited until the vehicle disappeared from sight, then activated his Scouter. The device's display flickered to life, overlaying power level readings and life sign detection across his field of vision.
He chose a direction, northeast, where the mountains provided natural cave systems, and began running.
Once he was certain no one could observe him, Smith launched himself into the air. He stayed low, perhaps twenty feet above the desert floor, moving at a steady pace that balanced speed with energy conservation.
The desert stretched endlessly in all directions, nothing but sand, rock, and heat shimmer. Occasionally, Smith detected life signs, small clusters of power levels indicating human presence. Nomadic groups, military patrols, or more likely, insurgent cells.
He continued his search pattern, methodically covering territory. If someone spotted him flying, he'd deal with it. One person seeing something impossible wasn't a crisis, especially if that person didn't survive to report it.
Unknown Cave System – Afghanistan
Tony Stark sat up slowly, his hand instinctively moving to his chest. Instead of the heavy car battery he'd been tethered to for weeks, he felt the smooth, warm surface of the arc reactor.
The miniaturized power source glowed softly beneath his shirt, three billion joules per second, compact enough to fit in his palm, powerful enough to keep the shrapnel from reaching his heart for fifty lifetimes.
"Yinsen," Tony said, genuine gratitude in his voice. "Thank you for helping with the installation. I couldn't have managed the procedure solo."
Yinsen smiled from across the cave, extending his hand. Tony clasped it firmly.
"You're our ticket out of here," Yinsen said. "Of course I helped. Besides, what kind of assistant would I be if I let you die of blood loss during self-surgery?"
Tony laughed, the first genuine laugh he'd produced since the kidnapping. The arc reactor represented more than just a solution to his shrapnel problem. It was hope. Proof that he could still create, still innovate, even in the worst circumstances imaginable.
"Once I finish the suit, we're walking out of here," Tony said. "And then I'm going to make everyone involved in this kidnapping deeply regret their life choices."
He stood, pulling on his shirt to hide the reactor's glow. "But first, I need a break from metalwork. My brain needs rest. Game?"
Yinsen retrieved a battered backgammon board from their meager supplies. They settled in for a match, the familiar routine providing a thin veneer of normalcy over their captivity.
Tony rolled the dice, moved his pieces, and tried not to think about how close they were to either escape or death. The Mark I armor was taking shape in the corner of the cave, crude, heavy, powered by a miniature sun he'd built from scraps.
Just a little longer, he thought. Finish the suit, fight our way out, get back to Pepper and Rhodey. Show the world that Tony Stark doesn't stay down.
Outside the cave, hidden among rocks and keeping watch, the Ten Rings guards remained oblivious to what their captive was building.
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