The breakfast was canned seafood rice from France. The rice was half-cooked, and the seafood was tasteless, but Stark relished it. Not because he was hungry, but because he was fervently storing energy for his body; he knew he had work to do.
After finishing a bagged loaf of bread matched with a main course from a can, Stark wiped his mouth with a sleeve and said, "Do me a favor, Shiller. Call those people in, I'll make a list for them. They can fetch the items according to the list."
"There's nothing to fetch, Tony. There isn't any store within twenty kilometers from here."
"Then they should steal or rob, or even scrape the bricks off of a military base wall. I don't care. I will tell them that weapons don't just fall from the sky. Without a lathe, even a god would be helpless. Wanting me to manufacture weapons without providing me with equipment, they should go find God."
A slightly surprised expression appeared on Shiller's face. Stark sitting proudly with folded arms said, "Despite my reluctance to admit it, you indeed are a competent doctor. I'll pay your fees, but we must find a way out of here first."
Shiller didn't pick up on that. This made Stark's plan to describe his grand blueprint fall flat. Still, he was now indeed focused on more practical matters. Therefore, he said, "I need to meet them once. You'll serve as our translator."
Shiller nodded his agreement, raising no objection. After breakfast, he put on his coat and told Stark, "I need to talk with them to ensure their patience with your incoherent demands. You better stay here and take a good sleep after taking the meds."
"Rest assured, I will."
After Shiller left, Stark added wood to the bonfire, darted back to that heap of broken communication equipment to pick out some, but this time he didn't stick to the principle of only picking undamaged ones. Any somewhat intact components were selected by him.
But just at this moment, Stark heard some noises at the cave's entrance. He instantly became alert, hiding behind the pile of discarded parts cautiously observing the situation at the entrance, praying that it was just the wind blowing the branches.
However, reality disappointed him. A zip-line dropped from above the entrance and Stark tightened his grip around the handle of his gun.
The instant Erik landed at the doorway, Stark aimed his gun at his head.
"Hey! Hey! Tony! It's me. I'm here to rescue you." Erik raised his hands instantly, signaling Stark not to make any rash moves.
Only after recognizing his face did Stark slowly put down his gun. With wide eyes, he said, "Erik, what are you doing here, didn't you leave?"
Not getting the anticipated surprise reaction, Erik paused and said rather uncertainly, "Tony, what's wrong with you? It's me, how could I have abandoned you and escaped?"
"They were too many and too strong at that time. I had to get my weapons and tools. I knew they wanted to kidnap you and wouldn't hurt you for the time being. Otherwise, even if I could beat one or two, they would become desperate and tear up the ticket, which would be terrible."
This reasoning was quite reasonable. After all, the behavior of the kidnappers seemed like a kidnapping rather than a murder, indicating that Stark was valuable and wouldn't be killed. Therefore, escaping first, making full preparations before returning to rescue was the most reliable method.
But somehow, Stark always felt Erik seemed anxious to justify himself. However, at present, he really didn't care about these explanations.
"I found a small uphill road." Erik took off the zip-line around his waist and continued, "These people must've been professionally advised; their defense is watertight. Fortunately, my rock climbing skills aren't too bad. The windward side is hard to navigate, so I came up from there."
"Let's go, Tony. Both of us will rappel down from where I came. There are weapons in my car. Even if they catch up with us, I can get you to a safe place. If worse comes to worst, we'll go back to Wakanda, they wouldn't dare to follow us there."
"I'm sorry, Erik, but I can't go with you." Stark shook his head, moving back toward the pile of parts.
Erik looked shocked. Stark knelt beside a stack of parts, looking up at Erik, "I've got something I need to do now, something I must do. I hope you understand. You can leave on your own and go somewhere safe."
"God! Tony, what's wrong with you?" Erik strode forward, gazing at Stark, shocked and confused. "You've been kidnapped! You're in the kidnapper's base camp! What urgent task could you possibly have here? Shouldn't your priority be to get to a safe place first?"
"Yes, if I weren't Stark, I'd definitely turn around and leave." Stark fiddled with a circuit board in his hand, "Erik, what do you think caused everything here?"
"I don't understand what you mean, Tony." Erik glanced outside the cave, "The guards are currently changing shifts. If we don't leave now, it'll be too late."
Stark lightly furrowed his brow. Erik's anxious demeanor was somewhat distressing, but he said, "Everything here happened because of me, or at least related to me."
"My name is on their weapons. I must take responsibility for that. I need to solve all of this."
Erik dropped his shoulders, spreading his hands helplessly, "This isn't your fault, Tony. Regardless, you need to ensure your own safety first. You can only do other things if you're alive, right?"
A wave of frustration surged within Stark. He felt like he was preaching to deaf ears. Why was he preaching about responsibility, sacrifice, and altruism, while the other talked about interests, safety, and surviving by any means necessary?
Why does everyone react as if they are allergic to romance? Why don't these people have the slightest hint of heroism?
Why is it that every time he is on the brink of making a significant decision and preparing to march into the future full of hope, must someone come forward and draw him back to the past, back to those days of waiting to be saved?
Stark knew Erik was right, but it was precisely this "rightness" that made him feel disheartened. He didn't want to talk about right or wrong; he only hoped for someone's understanding.
"I'm truly sorry, Erik. If I get back to America, I'll contact you. But I really can't leave now. You should hurry and leave."
Stark stopped talking. Out of his line of sight, Erik's expression turned somewhat gloomy.
Erik took a step forward. Just then, a rustling noise emerged from the entrance of the cave. The local language, barely audible, hinted from a distance.
Erik was startled. Stark, still looking at Erik said, "Go quickly. They're coming back."
"Tony..."
"Go, now!"
Hearing the approaching footsteps, Erik turned and quickly boarded the zip line. With a regretful gaze, he watched Stark's figure, but had to leave first.
Schiller had brought the locals back here, but what Stark wanted to do was far from making weapons for them, and even more so from just surviving to get back to America. He was planning to make a dramatic comeback.
He spoke to the arriving terrorists, "You know who I am, and therefore you should know that I invented many of the missiles that have been dropped on you."
"Since I researched and designed those missiles, I naturally know their weaknesses. But to find a way to overcome them, you'll have to get me a sample. And once I crack Stark Group's missiles, their heavy firepower bombardment will no longer threaten you."
The terrorists' eyes lit up at these words. Then Stark said some professional terms about the guidance system, which Schiller only roughly translated.
These locals indeed had never met such an accomplished scientist. Stark's words and demeanor had successfully deceived them, and they hastily left to retrieve a missile.
After the others had left, Stark sorted through the selected electronic components, commenting, "A missile launch permission requires authorization from the senior executives of Stark Group. If I get a missile, I will find out who authorized its launch."
"But you already have an answer, don't you?"
Stark's movements paused. He sighed, nodded, and said, "I'm still trying to digest the fact that I might lose a dear family member. Do you have any good remedies for this, doctor?"
Schiller shook his head, "So it seems like you're planning to stir up a hornet's nest here."
"Are you going to stop me?"
"No, I'm looking forward to the show."
Stark snorted coldly, "What do you think this is, child's play? I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you, my dear doctor. The stir I'm going to cause may be even bigger than you imagine."
With that, he stood up, walked over to Schiller, and looking him in the eye, asked, "You know the specific locations of all military bases, right?"
"But I'm not going to tell you."
"You will." Stark gently shook his head, "After making a scene here, I'll let everyone know that you're the one who saved me. You won't be able to stay here."
Schiller looked at him silently, lips pursed. After a while, he reluctantly looked away, "Why do you insist on giving me a hard time?"
Stark just looked at him wordlessly, not answering.
After a brief silence, Schiller issued what seemed like a threat, "You don't like psychiatrists, do you? If I make it back to America, I will make you visit me every week. You will have to face a psychiatrist who reads minds, and also pay a hefty consultation fee."
"My medical account is already prepared. No one could present Stark with a surprising bill, doctor."
With that, Stark resumed his work, ignoring Schiller.
Around dusk, Schiller put on his coat and informed Stark, "They told me earlier that they're bringing in a batch of medicine tonight. I need to go and check out what I can use. I will be back in about half an hour, then I'll change your bandage."
Stark waved dismissively. After Schiller's receding figure disappeared from the entrance of the cave, he gazed vacantly at the sunset, then immersed himself in his work again.
Schiller, having left, walked down the smooth road to the village at the foot of the hill, where the kidnappers resided. The locals glanced at him and let him pass.
First, Schiller went to a local residence to collect some medicine, then turned a corner, walked down a small road, and entered a secluded hut.
He nodded at a local old man leaning against the door, then picked up the satellite phone and spoke into the receiver.
"Stark is going to wreak havoc here. He won't spare any U.S. military bases. Federal Bureau of Investigation and military systems that have been established here for over a decade will be completely destroyed. They'll lose large amounts of equipment and manpower."
"When their positions become vacant, you can bring your people in. But try not to be too aggressive. The locals can't be trifled with. So with that, our deal is done."
"Farewell, Baron. Hail Hydra."
After hanging up the phone, a large figure appeared at the door, and a bearded local man led a few others into the cramped room.
Schiller nodded at them and said, "The plan is progressing smoothly. Once Stark destroys the U.S. military system in Afghanistan, you will have the opportunity to reclaim your country."
The leader stepped forward and shook Schiller's hand.
"Long live the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Afghanistan."
The man said in broken English, "Long live Doctor Schiller, long live."