While Coulson was still wondering what sort of demands a supernatural individual like Sherlock might make of S.H.I.E.L.D., Sherlock had already boarded a plane bound for the Middle East.
After more than thirty hours of travel, the group finally landed at a military base in the region.
Helen found the arrangement surprisingly interesting, but neither Sherlock nor John reacted much.
The mission had come from S.H.I.E.L.D., while the military had been responsible for losing Tony in the first place.
In practical terms, S.H.I.E.L.D.
had only become involved because the military had asked for help.
The Continental also catered primarily to senior officials, influential executives, and wealthy clients.
With both organizations coordinating behind the scenes, arranging for their plane to land directly inside a military base had not been particularly difficult.
Doro understood none of that.
All she knew was that there were suddenly a great many people wearing identical sand-colored uniforms, along with several enormous machines made of metal.
The military had mixed feelings about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s outside assistance.
On one hand, they had no desire to let another agency interfere in their operations.
On the other, Tony Stark was too important to abandon, and their own investigation had produced almost nothing.
That was why Colonel James Rhodes wore such a complicated expression as he waited beside the runway.
The moment Sherlock stepped out of the aircraft, however, that uncertainty turned into anger.
Sherlock looked far too young.
For a moment, Rhodey genuinely believed S.H.I.E.L.D.
had sent some inexperienced kid merely to appease the military, as though Tony’s life were not important enough to warrant a serious response.
Then Doro climbed onto Sherlock’s shoulder.
Rhodey’s anger vanished almost immediately.
As a senior Air Force officer, he knew that the world contained gifted individuals hidden among ordinary society—or, to put it more plainly, people with supernatural abilities.
Doro’s cartoonish appearance, completely at odds with everything around her, practically announced that the young man leading the group was anything but ordinary.
Her presence was enough to make Rhodey reconsider his first impression.
He escorted Sherlock and the others to the operations room, gave them a concise briefing on everything the military had learned, and handed Sherlock the satellite maps he requested.
Sherlock studied them briefly, then left with his three companions without wasting another moment.
Rhodey was naturally curious, and he was far from the only one.
In the middle of a harsh military base surrounded by endless sand, Doro’s brightly colored, two-dimensional appearance drew attention wherever she went.
Sherlock could feel every pair of eyes following them.
Since the entire purpose of this mission was to display enough power to discourage future interference, he saw no reason to hide anything.
After finding an open stretch of ground, Sherlock brought his hands together in front of his chest.
The moment he pulled them apart, a long spear radiating sacred golden light appeared before him and hovered silently in the air.
That alone was not enough to truly shock the onlookers.
Plenty of stage magicians could make an object appear to float.
The lance might have been surrounded by spectacular light, but to the soldiers watching, it could still have been some elaborate trick.
They lived in a world of aliens, enhanced soldiers, and unexplained disasters.
A floating spear with theatrical effects barely registered.
Sherlock knew that.
He had never intended to stop there.
Under the amused gazes of John and Helen, he realized he had no choice but to commit fully to the performance.
Sherlock caught the floating lance in one hand and gave it a casual sweep.
A blinding flash erupted from the weapon.
When the light faded, Sherlock’s enormous Ford Raptor stood in the middle of the military base as though it had appeared from nowhere.
That finally drew a collective gasp from the surrounding soldiers.
Sherlock ignored them.
He flicked the Holy Lance aside, causing it to vanish, then climbed into the passenger seat without looking back.
John and Helen exchanged knowing smiles before following him.
John took the wheel, while Helen settled into the rear seat with Doro in her arms.
Their expressions were strange for a simple reason.
Sherlock’s little display might have fooled anyone unfamiliar with his abilities, but those who knew him could easily guess what had actually happened.
He had used the blinding light from the Holy Lance as cover while frantically pulling out one of his spatial capsules and throwing it onto the ground.
That was where the truck had really come from.
Once everyone was inside, the vehicle roared to life and accelerated toward the base’s exit, despite having absolutely no business being there.
Only after they had left the gates behind did Sherlock’s tense expression finally relax.
He let out a long breath and practically melted into the passenger seat.
John found the sight amusing.
He glanced at Helen through the rearview mirror, but she merely smiled and gave him a slight shake of her head.
Suppressing whatever comment he had been about to make, John focused on the road.
“We should stop at the local Continental first.” Sherlock, who had been examining the satellite maps and searching for the valley where Tony was being held, immediately looked up.
“There’s a Continental out here?
In the middle of a war zone?” John nodded gravely.
“There is.
This branch operates under war-zone rules, but for us, it should still be the best place to establish a base.” Sherlock frowned with curiosity.
He had always known that violence was forbidden on Continental grounds, but this was the first time he had heard anything about special rules for active conflict zones.
“Johnny, what exactly are these war-zone rules?
I thought fighting was forbidden inside every Continental.
Why does this branch need a separate set of rules?” A vein visibly pulsed on John’s forehead at the nickname.
Even so, he began explaining how the Continental operated in a war zone.