"Hey, did you hear about that comic writer, Jason Walker? The one who predicted Tony Stark's kidnapping? Apparently, he thinks he's some kind of prophet now. Did the guy lose his mind from drawing too many comics?"
"Who knows, man. Maybe he's so deep into his own fantasy that he actually believes it."
"Come on, there's no way that's real. I bet Walker's just pretending to be nuts, trying to throw the government off. If you ask me, he's probably in on the whole kidnapping scheme. He might even get taken out by the Feds in secret."
"I get where you're coming from. This whole thing could be a smokescreen, a way to keep the government from looking too closely."
"Yeah, if Tony Stark doesn't turn up soon, it'll all fall on Walker. The FBI isn't gonna let him off the hook."
"Ha! Imagine if Walker was really a prophet. Now *that* would be something."
"If he's a prophet, then I'm the richest man in the world!"
"Forget all that, is anyone even talking about the next *Iron Man* comic? I mean, is that awesome mecha suit gonna show up?"
"Who cares about the comic now? The news is way more exciting than a couple of panels."
"Didn't Walker say he'd predict Stark's return? Well, we'll find out soon enough if he's a prophet or a fraud."
"Yeah, right. Tony Stark's been missing for days. For all we know, he's long dead, his body rotting in some desert..."
---
The chatter around Jason Walker's comic prophecy had the entire country buzzing. Most people scoffed at the idea of a "prophecy," unless Walker's prediction about Tony Stark somehow came true. And now, all eyes were glued to the news, waiting for any sign of Stark's return.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, in a heavily guarded cave deep in the desert, the man at the center of all the speculation—Tony Stark—was staring at a glowing piece of metal in his hands.
"You don't exactly look like a missile," I muttered, studying the device Tony had rigged up.
Tony had been quiet for the past few hours, his mind working nonstop as he toyed with the arc reactor strapped to his chest. Both of us had been captured by the Ten Rings, forced to build weapons for them with the false promise of freedom if we complied. Of course, we both knew better than to trust anything they said.
But I could see it in Tony's eyes—he was planning something. He wasn't just tinkering with scraps for fun. He was building something important, and I had a feeling it was our way out of here.
Tony ran his fingers over the reactor. The blue glow flickered, casting faint shadows across his face. "This is the key," he said, almost to himself.
The terrorists had given him just enough parts to build what they thought was a missile, but Tony had other plans. He'd scavenged enough palladium to power his arc reactor, a personal power source that was now the only thing keeping him alive.
"How much power does it have?" I asked, stepping closer to inspect the glowing gem.
Tony looked at me, his voice low. "About three gigajoules per second."
"That's enough to keep your heart beating for the rest of your life," I said, impressed.
He nodded, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. His eyes darted to the makeshift workbench, littered with mechanical parts. The whole room was rigged with cameras, monitoring our every move. The clock was ticking, and the terrorists were losing patience. Tony knew we didn't have much time left.
"Or..." he began, his voice trailing off. "Enough power to fuel a big guy for about fifteen minutes."
I watched him closely as he said it. Something clicked in his mind, a realization that sparked behind his eyes. He was building something big—something more than just an escape plan.
I knew what he was thinking. I'd seen the comics, heard the rumors. The title *Iron Man* flashed in my mind. It wasn't just a name—it was what he was building. Tony Stark, the real-life Iron Man.
"Wait," he said suddenly, as if remembering something. "That comic writer... Walker. He warned me, didn't he? What did he say?"
I could see the confusion setting in. Jason Walker had mentioned something to Tony before all of this had happened, a cryptic warning wrapped in the pages of a comic book. Was it all just coincidence? Or had Walker really known what was going to happen?
Tony clenched his fists. "If I ever get out of here, I'm finding that guy. I'm going to make him tell me how the hell he knew about all this."
But first, we needed to survive. We were deep in enemy territory, surrounded by armed guards and watchful eyes. One wrong move, and we were dead.
Just as Tony was about to speak again, the sound of metal scraping against stone echoed through the cave. I turned to see the leader of the Ten Rings walking toward us, his cloak billowing as he approached. His expression was dark, his mood even darker.
I had a bad feeling about this.
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