After tossing and turning for a while, James lay helplessly on his back in the cramped box, his limbs awkwardly hanging down. His expression was one of frustration and defeat.
"How am I supposed to get out of here?" he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.
Exhausted, he drifted off to sleep.
In his dream, he found himself once again in a familiar place: the Sanctuary.
The expansive training ground was alive with activity, and three teenagers stood together, immersed in their own discussions. The black-haired boy, round-faced and confident, struck a pose after completing a series of martial arts moves.
"How about it? Did you see that? This is my own style. Try to catch me if you can!" he boasted, a hint of challenge in his tone.
James and the blond boy shook their heads in unison. The blond boy spoke up, "Martial arts is still way above our heads. But I have a different approach. I can keep enemies at bay without having to fight them directly."
"Bragging again," the black-haired boy scoffed, rolling his eyes.
The blond boy merely smiled, his broad grin revealing eight bright, perfect teeth. "Come on, I can teleport! That's way cooler than your fancy kicks."
"But still, that doesn't make your ability a martial art," the black-haired boy countered. "It's more like a parlor trick. Not everyone has superpowers when they awaken their sixth sense."
The black-haired boy puffed out his chest. "I don't need superpowers! I could take you both down without even trying!"
James shook his head, amused. "You might be special, but I doubt anyone else in the Sanctuary can match your strength."
The blond boy nodded, clearly impressed. "You really are something else!"
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, it was night in the United States but day in the rugged mountains of Afghanistan. Tony Stark was unceremoniously 'visited' by gunfire. The neatly stacked weapon crates, emblazoned with 'Stark Industries,' served as a harsh reminder of his own complicity in the weapons he had designed.
Facing death at the hands of his own creations was a grim awakening for Tony. He was transforming from a self-absorbed arms dealer into a man grappling with guilt and responsibility.
He had never fully comprehended the horror experienced by those who witnessed their loved ones perish in explosions.
Tony was fortunate to be alive, relying on a makeshift battery to keep his heart beating. He thought of the lives he could change if he made it back to the United States. He wanted to make amends for the devastation his inventions had caused.
But the kidnappers had other plans. An Asian man with a beard made their demands clear: Tony was to build advanced Jericho missiles for them, with the promise of providing any materials he needed.
Tony had never been one to bow to threats. With a defiant attitude, he retorted, "Not a chance!"
Nearby, a bald man observed the scene with a calculating gaze. After Tony was dragged back to the cave, he approached a figure seated in a tent, a man holding a teapot made of purple clay.
"He's refusing," the bald man reported.
The older man, shrouded in a black cloak, spoke with authority. "I expected nothing less. But don't worry—he will comply. A man like Tony Stark won't want to linger in uncertainty."
"Time is short; he has seven days left. He will give us what we want," he added, a hint of menace lacing his words.
The bald man nodded, his doubt evident. "And if Obadiah from Stark Industries comes asking?"
The cloaked figure shot him a sharp look. "We are allied with the Ten Rings. You owe no one an explanation!"
The bald man shivered at the stern reprimand but nodded quickly.
Though the bald man appeared to be the leader of the terrorists, the true power lay with the old man holding the teapot. This was no ordinary figure; he was the same man who had crossed paths with Tony Stark in a Chinatown orphanage.
To avoid recognition, he wore the hood to conceal his identity, adding an air of mystery about him.
James and Shang-Chi's concerns were validated; the old man was more than he seemed. The insignia James had noticed in the wing room of the Chinese Medicine Hall was a symbol of the Ten Rings, a clandestine organization that operated in the shadows of Asia.
The Ten Rings were not well-known but wielded significant power. The leader, known only as 'Chu,' was rarely seen, and rumors about him were rampant.
The old man, whose full name was Wang Chu, was suspected to be a high-ranking member of this organization. The group that had kidnapped Tony Stark was merely a faction under the Ten Rings.
On the surface, they had been hired by Obadiah, but in reality, this was a meticulously orchestrated plan to control Stark and his empire.
The Ten Rings needed someone like Tony Stark to fuel their ambitions, seeing him as a key to unlocking vast resources and weaponry to restore their power and influence.
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