Tony Stark felt as though he were dreaming.
He found himself in a dark place, with a beam of light shining down on him.
People surrounded him in the darkness, saying something he couldn’t make out, while a camera had been set up in front of him.
Then… another scene.
People—he didn’t know who they were—were leaning over his chest, carrying out some kind of… experiment?
“Ugh~”
Tony Stark let out a pained groan and suddenly opened his eyes.
Uncomfortable.
Breathing was difficult.
There was something in his nasal passage.
What was this?
Tony reached up and pulled.
A long IV tube was dragged out of his nostril.
Where am I?
Tony looked around in confusion.
He was in a dim… cave.
A man wearing a suit was shaving in front of a battered mirror.
Tony tried to pick up the cup on the table to protect himself, but when he turned to the side, the movement was stopped by a wire pulling taut.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t do that.”
Ethan looked at Tony Stark through the mirror.
Tony turned around.
On another table sat an iron box with two wires connected to it.
The two wires were connected to…
Tony followed them with his eyes and saw that they led to his own body.
His chest was tightly wrapped in bandages, and the two wires disappeared beneath them.
Tony patted his chest with his palm.
The sound was dull, and the sensation was strange.
In a panic, Tony tore open the bandages, revealing a circular piece of metal.
The wires… were connected directly to it.
Tony Stark breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling.
He was frightened and bewildered.
…
“Xu~”
Ethan stood beside a fire, casually whistling as he stirred… some kind of unidentifiable, paste-like substance in an equally filthy iron basin with a dirty spoon.
“Adan, dinner’s ready!”
Ethan called out.
A faint rustling came from the dark corner, and a figure emerged from the shadows.
How should this guy be described?
Compared with Ethan, who kept himself relatively neat and tidy, this man was practically…
“covered in hair.” He looked like Aquaman from next door after taking some kind of beard-growing hormone.
His thick beard and messy hair completely obscured his face, and he also smelled pretty damn bad.
“Adan, perhaps you should… shave your beard. And find a chance to take a shower.”
Ethan handed Adan his food and spoke hesitantly, his tone as tactful as possible.
Adan stroked the beard on his face, patted Ethan on the shoulder, and said, “When we get out of here, I’ll shave it off. Maybe I can even sell it for some money. As for taking a shower, I have a feeling I’ll be able to enjoy a proper one before long.”
Adan’s hand left several even darker damn handprints on Ethan’s black suit.
Ethan gave a self-mocking smile.
Leave this place?
Then we’d better eat a little more.
After spending two days together, Adan and Ethan had unexpectedly become good friends—the only friends either of them had.
Tony’s eyes moved away from the small mirror in his hand.
Looking at the two strange men before him, he asked, “What did you do to me?”
“What did we do?”
Ethan stirred another portion of the paste as he spoke.
“We saved you.”
Adan answered before him.
He then scooped up some food with his own spoon, blew on it, and, smiling through his thick curtain of hair, put it into his mouth.
“Delicious!”
Adan sighed with satisfaction before quietly walking off to the side.
“That’s right. We saved you. I did everything I could to remove the shrapnel, but there are still a lot of fragments left. They’ll eventually enter the membrane around your heart, and then you’ll…”
Ethan spoke helplessly.
He put down the spoon and walked over to pick up a glass bottle.
“Want to see this?”
Ethan shook the bottle, displaying the tiny fragments inside.
“A souvenir. Take a look.”
With that, he tossed the little bottle to Tony.
Tony expressionlessly caught it.
Under the dim light, he could see several larger pieces of shrapnel inside the filthy bottle, along with countless smaller fragments.
“Your condition is very common… at least in our village. We call it the living dead. Because in about a week, the shrapnel will enter your vital organs, and then… well, you know what happens.”
Ethan casually continued explaining.
Tony pulled his gaze away from the bottle, his expression becoming solemn.
“Then what’s this?”
Tony touched his chest.
“An electromagnet. It’s used to power car batteries… but it can also prevent the shrapnel inside your body from reaching your heart. He came up with the idea.”
As he spoke, Ethan nodded toward where Adan was sitting.
Tony zipped up his clothes and looked in Adan’s direction… then at the camera above Adan’s head.
Ethan turned his head to look as well, then turned back toward Tony with a smile.
“That’s right. Smile!”
Tony said nothing.
The cave fell silent, with the only sound being Adan chewing his food.
FUCK!
How the hell did that guy manage to make paste sound so damn crunchy?
Although Ethan still understood that Adan was an extremely dangerous person, Adan’s friendliness toward him had already caused Ethan to lower his guard.
Besides, living in this place for so long had filled Ethan with loneliness and fear.
That made him quickly develop a sense of kinship with Adan, who was in the same situation.
After all, no matter how…
“unusual” Adan might be, here they shared the same status—
Prisoners.
“We’ve met before. Do you remember? At the technology summit in Bern.”
Ethan broke the silence.
“I don’t remember.”
Tony looked toward Adan, wondering: What the hell is that guy eating?
Is it really that good?
I’m suddenly getting hungry.
“Of course you don’t remember. If I’d had as much to drink as you did, I wouldn’t have been able to stand, let alone explain integrated circuits.”
As Ethan spoke, he handed another portion of food to Tony before beginning to prepare the final portion for himself.
“Where is this?”
Tony took a bite of the food and asked.
Footsteps.
The sound of the door opening.
Voices—a rough, unfamiliar language.
“Quick, quick! Put the food down! Stand up, stand up!”
Ethan hurried over and took the bowl from Tony’s hands.
“Adan, Adan, get over here! Otherwise you’ll get beaten again. Hurry!”
As soon as he finished speaking, Ethan hurriedly called for Adan as well.
“Coming, coming.”
Adan leisurely put down his food and walked over.
“Follow me!”
Ethan turned to Tony.
“Quickly! Put your hands up! Adan, you put your hands up too!”
Tony followed Ethan’s instructions in confusion, but Adan merely stood there lazily, completely unmoved.
At that moment, the door opened.
Several armed guards walked in, with a bearded, overweight man in the middle.
“Those are my weapons. How did they get them?”
Tony immediately recognized the firearms as products manufactured by his own company.
He lowered his voice and asked Ethan.
“Did you understand me? Just do what I do. And you, Adan, hands up! FUCK!”
Ethan spoke harshly.
As Ethan was talking, the fat man in the middle smiled and spread his arms, speaking continuously in a jumble of words.
What the hell was he saying?
Apart from Ethan, neither Adan nor Tony could understand a word.
The fat man gestured with his hands and spoke passionately as he slowly approached, with the armed guards following closely behind him.
After finishing, the fat man nodded toward Ethan.
Ethan hurriedly translated for Tony:
“He says, ‘Welcome, Tony Stark, the most notorious mass murderer in American history.'”
The fat man continued speaking, and Ethan translated again:
“He says he’s honored to have you here. He wants you to build him a missile—the Jericho missile you’ve demonstrated.”
The fat man then handed a piece of paper to Ethan.
Ethan lowered one hand from his head, took the paper, and unfolded it.
It was a photograph.
He held it in front of Tony.
“This is the one.”
Tony lowered his head and glanced at the photograph before looking back at the fat man, his eyes flickering.
The fat man’s smile gradually disappeared as Tony hesitated.
“I refuse.”
Tony looked at the fat man and coldly uttered three words.
“Holy shit. So Tony Stark really is this damn brave.”
Adan patted Ethan on the shoulder and exclaimed.
Ethan, however, wasn’t nearly as relaxed.
His entire body had gone rigid, and he lowered his head without daring to respond to Adan.
Tony’s answer was a terrible one—for himself, for Ethan, and for Adan.
The fat man turned toward Ethan, wanting to know what Tony had said.
Although Ethan wanted to convey Tony’s answer more tactfully, Pashto wasn’t exactly as flexible as Chinese.
After hearing Ethan’s translation, the fat man sneered.
He shook his head and waved his hand.
Two men stepped forward and dragged Tony away.
The fat man was about to leave, but then he turned his head and glanced at Adan.
He drew the pistol from his waist and smashed the butt of it into Adan’s face.
Then he ordered his men to drag Adan and Ethan away as well.