Iron Man's second volume was flying off the shelves. It was selling even faster than the first. Yet, not everyone buying the comic was a true fan. Many just wanted to see if there was any truth to Jason Walker's wild claims that he could predict the future. His self-proclaimed status as a prophet was all anyone in the country could talk about.
Most readers didn't care about the story. They flipped straight to the end, eager to find out if Tony Stark would be rescued, skipping over the intricate details of the plot that true fans like me savored.
As I walked into my favorite comic book store, I couldn't help but smile when I heard a familiar voice at the counter.
"Hey, boss! Can I get a copy of Iron Man's second volume?" It was the young guy with the acne—one of the few people in this crowd who genuinely loved comics.
The bookstore owner looked up with a grin. He liked this kid. Reminded him of himself back in the day, before the store and life's obligations had taken over. "What happened? Not first in line today?"
The young guy sighed. "Nope. The crowd's been insane lately. I got here before dawn, and there were already tons of people waiting."
He took the comic with a sense of reverence, like it was a treasure he had been waiting all week to uncover. I watched as he opened it to the first page, his eyes lighting up as he saw the familiar art style. The cover showcased a sleek, futuristic suit of armor, with Tony Stark looking as determined as ever in the background.
Inside, the story picked up right where it left off. Tony was still trapped in that cave, forced to build weapons for the terrorists who'd captured him. But Tony being Tony, he had a plan—one that involved a makeshift, but powerful, suit of armor.
When he finally completed the arc reactor, the scene exploded into action. Tony donned the crude but formidable suit, broke free from his captors, and fought his way out of the cave. The armor was damaged in the battle, but he escaped—standing alone in the desert, his mind already on what he would create next.
But it wasn't a happy ending. Yinsen, the man who had been helping Tony all along, didn't make it out. He died, giving Tony the chance to survive.
"So cool!" the young guy exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. "I knew Jason Walker wouldn't let us down! The suit might be simple, but man, it's still awesome!"
He stood there, still holding the comic, his body stiff as if he were imagining himself inside the armor. That's the thing about comics—they make you feel like you're right there with the hero.
As the young guy turned to leave, he noticed a middle-aged man nearby, holding a laptop in one hand and flipping through the comic with the other.
"Hey, what are you doing?" the young guy asked, curious.
The man barely glanced up. "I'm looking for Tony Stark's location. The comic gives latitude and longitude. That Walker guy really thinks he's some kind of prophet, huh?"
The young guy shook his head. "Maybe you should actually read the comic. There's a lot more to it than just coordinates."
With that, he walked away, comic in hand. He knew the middle-aged man didn't get it. People like that didn't care about the story—they only wanted to prove the so-called "prophecy" wrong.
The man ignored him, focusing instead on his laptop. His eyes locked onto the coordinates in the comic, and he compared them with an electronic map.
"There's really a desert at these coordinates," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Maybe the author's just making stuff up."
Another man standing nearby overheard him and chimed in. "You're following that prophet story too?"
"Of course," the middle-aged man replied. "Why else would I waste my time with this comic?"
The second man snorted. "Do you think it could actually be true? This prophecy thing?"
"Please," the middle-aged man scoffed, waving his laptop. "If it turns out to be real, I'll eat this laptop."
"You know, a reporter said something just like that," the other man said. "He even made a bet at the press conference."
"I saw that," the middle-aged man responded with a grin. "Just wait. This is all going to blow up. Big news, for sure."
As they talked, another man passing by overheard them. It was Angus, the reporter who had made the bet with Jason Walker. He held his camera tightly, a smug look on his face. He couldn't wait for the moment Walker's so-called prophecy would be proven false. He was sure of it.
"Walker's arrogance will be his downfall," Angus thought to himself. "When this blows up in his face, I'll be standing on top of his grave, basking in my success."
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But it wasn't just the average comic book reader keeping tabs on the latest *Iron Man* volume. S.H.I.E.L.D. and even the military had their eyes on it too. At Stark Industries, Obadiah Stane, one of the company's top executives—and the man responsible for betraying Tony—was especially interested.
He sat in his office, flipping through the comic, barely able to believe what he was seeing. The idea that Tony had managed to build a powerful suit of armor, under such difficult conditions, and then fight his way out—it all seemed too far-fetched.
"Can this really predict the future?" he muttered to himself, skeptical.
It felt too absurd to be true, yet the comic had gotten so much right already. After staring at the pages for a long moment, Obadiah finally reached for the satellite phone on his desk. He needed to know what was really happening.
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