Chapter 44: We Rely on Our Abilities to Find Food!

That notorious playboy who slept his way through the entertainment and fashion worlds—he’s missing? Natasha raised an eyebrow. She’d been recuperating from her injuries these past few days and genuinely hadn’t heard the news. That man was simply too important, his status far too special; S.H.I.E.L.D. would be in a frenzy over this!

“On my way here, I caught wind of the situation. He was likely captured by terrorists—either for ransom or to force Mr. Stark to build Jericho missiles for them… After all, he went to the Middle East to sell the Jericho missiles. I’ve read the files; the destructive power of those missiles is terrifying.”

Coulson frowned. “The Middle East isn’t S.H.I.E.L.D.’s territory. We have only a handful of agents over there. Finding Mr. Stark, abducted by terrorists, will be extremely difficult. The Department of Defense is even more anxious than we are—Stark Industries is the military’s largest supplier.”

“When it comes to finding people, we’re more professional than the Defense Department. Do your best,” Fury said, rubbing his temples with a headache. “Howard Stark was one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s founders. His son is our responsibility. As you know, Howard sponsored S.H.I.E.L.D. for years, tens of billions of dollars annually, and S.H.I.E.L.D. even holds shares in Stark Industries.”

So where did S.H.I.E.L.D. get the money for all those agents, all that advanced tech, and those prohibitively expensive Quinjets? Government funding alone? Not nearly enough!

In truth, S.H.I.E.L.D. owned plenty of undisclosed businesses and investment arms. Their missions also yielded significant spoils, and they had both overt and covert collaborations with countless conglomerates and corporations. But their principal backer remained Stark Industries. After all, the founder of Stark Industries was also a founding father of S.H.I.E.L.D. itself.

Stark Industries’ success owed much to two generations of Starks, but it would be impossible without S.H.I.I.E.L.D.’s support.

Coulson looked up at Fury, thinking, “Director, how do you keep a straight face?” Such shamelessness was truly enviable! Shares in S.H.I.E.L.D. were really the director’s shares, and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was really the director’s money. Where did all that cash go? How many mistresses—cough—how many secret agents and covert bases did you set up on the side? Only the director knew.

Moreover, thanks to the close ties between Stark Industries and S.H.I.E.L.D., many people within S.H.I.E.L.D. had bought shares in Stark Industries, himself included. With Tony Stark’s disappearance, Stark Industries’ stock had plummeted more than twenty percent, a brutal loss. Director, in order to see those stocks rebound, and to pay for “Lola’s” new paint job, I have to find Tony…

If I do find him, maybe this year’s bonus will be safe, right? The thought filled Coulson with renewed vigor.

“This matter is of utmost importance, Coulson,” Fury reminded him again. “Five hours ago, Ms. Peggy Carter called me… She was Howard Stark’s friend and is deeply concerned. She wants us to find him at all costs.”

Melinda abruptly looked up. She had been raised and mentored by Peggy Carter herself. Everything she was now, she owed to Ms. Carter. Anything concerning Ms. Carter was her business, too. That playboy absolutely could not come to harm!

…

Iron Man’s future was in jeopardy? Wang calculated silently—it seemed about time. The plot of “Iron Man 1” was officially beginning, and the Marvel Universe was about to unveil its most spectacular chapter.

In the decade to come, aliens, Inhumans, mutants, demons, sorcerers, gods—every imaginable monster, villain, and hero would take the stage. Superheroes and supervillains would reveal to the world that what seemed like a safe existence was, in truth, more perilous than any science fiction film.

The reason the world had remained unscathed so far lay, first and foremost, with the Sorcerer Supreme and the masters of Kamar-Taj and the Three Sanctums, who had performed tremendous feats. Next came Odin, the All-Father of Asgard, whose age had made him long for peace and stability. Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D. had also played a considerable part—one could not deny that.

But soon, the Sorcerer Supreme would “die” in the flesh, ascending to become a spiritual entity, following the Great Eternal through the multiverse—a promotion of the highest order, though who could say if it was truly so. Odin would fall. S.H.I.E.L.D., under the sabotage of Hydra and despite the efforts of Fury, Coulson, and others, would gradually decline from a United Nations-backed super-organization to a handful of scattered operatives—a shadow of its former self.

Yet the Avengers would rise. Those who had thwarted plot after plot and defeated villain after villain would, with a snap of the Mad Titan’s fingers, lose half their number, only to stage an unprecedented reversal.

Some would make their entrance, some their exit; some would settle down with loved ones, while others would lie beneath the grass, unremembered.

And all of this—everything—would begin to change from this very moment.

Because—

“This world has me now!” Wang sighed, raising his head to gaze at the fading sunset, his eyes angled at forty-five degrees. He felt his shoulders had never been so heavy as today, burdened with the mission to save the world.

Suddenly, his mind broadened; his horizons expanded; his outlook on life and the world itself was transformed.

Skye, sitting in the back row busy earning a living for herself and Wang’s retirement, suddenly sensed something strange. Looking up, she was immediately captivated by Wang’s demeanor. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden veil upon him, making him appear hazy and mysterious, noble, and distant—as if he hailed from the heavens themselves.

Yet, abruptly, an unexpected sound pulled Skye from her reverie and brought Wang crashing back to earth.

A loud grumble from his stomach.

Wang rubbed his belly, thinking, “I’m not some cute cartoon panda—what’s with the cutesy stomach growling?” Pandaren are not pandas; they don’t do cute.

We find our meals by skill!

…

Far away, in the mountains of Afghanistan.

In a remote, poorly ventilated cave, Tony Stark awoke from unconsciousness. At first, his vision was blurry, his mind clouded, his thoughts muddled. But clarity soon returned.

Images flooded his mind: exploding missiles, whizzing bullets, American soldiers dying one after another beside him. What had happened? A terrorist attack? Was he kidnapped?

There was a tube in his nose, making him uncomfortable, and a dull ache in his chest. Tony yanked the tube out, trying to sit up, but failed.

Suddenly, he heard a noise. Turning his head, he saw an elderly man, at least in his sixties, shaving before a mirror.

Tony tried to roll onto his side to stand, but still couldn’t move—something was restraining him.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t move, Mr. Stark,” the man said without turning around.

Tony looked down, lifted his shirt, and saw a strange circular device embedded in his chest—two wires leading to a nearby car battery.

“What did you do to me?” Tony’s voice was weak and feeble. Once always so strong, he now felt as exposed and helpless as a young maiden, completely at another’s mercy.

The old man put down his razor, stood up, turned, and smiled gently.

“I saved your life.”