Chapter 7: Into the Desert
POV: Clark
The cargo plane's engines droned with the mechanical heartbeat of military transport, vibrating through Clark's bones as Afghanistan stretched beneath them like a map of human ambition turned to dust. He sat strapped into a web seat that had seen better wars, surrounded by legitimate documentary equipment that hid artifacts powerful enough to alter the course of history. The irony wasn't lost on him—flying into a war zone to prevent a war that hadn't started yet.
"Thirty-six hours since Tony's convoy left Bagram. The ambush is happening today. Right now, probably. And I'm still two hours out."
Clark's hands found the Desert Compass in his vest pocket, feeling its warm pulse as it oriented itself toward the coordinates burned into his memory. The D-tier artifact hummed with purpose, eager to guide him through terrain that had swallowed armies for a thousand years. Around him, the plane's other passengers—aid workers, contractors, a few journalists chasing stories in the graveyard of empires—dozed or stared out portholes at landscape that looked like the surface of Mars.
The system had been quiet during the flight, conserving power for what was coming. But Clark felt its presence like weight in his chest, counting down seconds to the moment when Tony Stark would either die in a cave or emerge as something the world had never seen.
"Focus on the mission. Get to the coordinates, track the convoy, document everything with the monocle. Find Tony. Stay alive long enough to matter."
The plane shuddered as it began its descent toward Kandahar, and Clark's artifacts responded with harmonic resonance. The Echo Stone grew warm against his ribs. The Swift Step Boots tingled with anticipation. Even his E-tier pieces seemed to sense they were approaching something significant.
"First time in Afghanistan?"
The voice belonged to a weathered aid worker named Martinez, who'd been reading a paperback thriller with the kind of focus that suggested professional escapism.
"Documentary work," Clark said, which was technically true. "Following up on a corporate story. Stark Industries weapons demonstration."
Martinez's expression shifted slightly. "You might want to reconsider that angle. Word is there was some kind of incident involving a Stark convoy. Details are sketchy, but it didn't end well."
Clark's blood went cold. "Incident. Past tense. It's already happened."
"What kind of incident?"
"The kind that makes corporate documentaries very short and very depressing. Sorry, friend. Might be time to find a different story."
The plane touched down with the controlled violence of military landing procedures, throwing Clark against his restraints as reality slammed home. Tony was already captured. The ambush had already happened. Every second of delay now was another second Tony spent in Ten Rings custody, another step closer to either death or transformation.
Clark gathered his equipment with practiced efficiency, slinging camera bags that clinked softly with concealed artifacts. His press credentials had gotten him this far, but the next phase would require more creative problem-solving.
"Military checkpoint first. Use the Echo Stone to impersonate authorization. Get transport to the ambush site. Track the convoy using the Desert Compass. Document everything with the Hawk Eye Monocle. And somehow stay invisible while doing it all."
The Kandahar base sprawled across the desert like a small metal city, all prefab buildings and razor wire under a sun that felt like divine judgment. Clark approached the security checkpoint wearing his best impression of a journalist who belonged there, press credentials prominently displayed, camera equipment suggesting professional competence.
"Purpose of your visit?" The guard was young, American, with the kind of alertness that came from knowing people wanted to kill him.
"Documentary filmmaker. Stark Industries corporate story. I have authorization from—"
Clark let his voice trail off as he activated the Echo Stone, feeling the familiar drain on his stamina as the artifact came to life. The voice that emerged was a perfect reproduction of a Pentagon media liaison he'd recorded weeks ago during his research.
"This is Colonel Sarah Mitchell, Pentagon Media Relations. I'm calling to confirm authorization for journalist Clark Collins to access forward operating areas for approved documentary work on defense contractor operations."
The guard's radio crackled with the response: "Stand by... Checking authorization codes... Collins, Clark, documentary clearance confirmed. Proceed with standard escort protocols."
"First checkpoint passed. Now for the hard part."
Clark found himself assigned to a convoy heading toward the same region where Tony's ambush had occurred, officially to document "reconstruction efforts" but actually to investigate what the military wasn't telling journalists about the missing weapons manufacturer. The convoy commander, a weary captain named Rodriguez, seemed more interested in getting the mission over with than questioning Clark's motives.
"Stay with the vehicle," Rodriguez told him as they prepared to depart. "Don't wander off, don't touch anything that looks like it might explode, and if someone starts shooting, get down and stay down. This isn't a war zone anymore, but it's not exactly a tourist destination either."
Clark nodded and climbed into the armored Humvee, feeling the Desert Compass pulse stronger as they began moving toward the coordinates where Tony Stark's life had changed forever. The artifact guided him with certainty that GPS couldn't match, pointing through desert terrain toward a story that was still being written.
The Afghan countryside rolled past in shades of brown and gold, beautiful in its desolation. Ancient trade routes carved through valleys where Alexander the Great had marched, where Soviet tanks had rusted, where American convoys now carried the dreams and nightmares of another empire. Clark watched it all through the Hawk Eye Monocle, its enhanced vision revealing details that normal sight would miss.
"There. Tire tracks. Recent ones, multiple vehicles, heading away from the main road."
"Captain," Clark called to Rodriguez. "Could we stop for a moment? I want to get some establishing shots of the terrain."
Rodriguez checked his watch and nodded. "Five minutes. Stay close."
Clark climbed out of the Humvee and immediately activated the monocle's maximum zoom, scanning the landscape with systematic precision. The tire tracks were clear once you knew how to look for them—multiple vehicles had left the main road, traveled approximately three kilometers across rough terrain, then split into different groups.
"Ambush site is ahead. But the tracks split... some vehicles went northwest, toward the mountains. That's where they took Tony."
"Collins!" Rodriguez called. "Time to move!"
Clark climbed back into the Humvee, but his mind was already working through the tactical situation. He had Tony's approximate location, but reaching it would require leaving the military convoy and traveling alone across hostile territory. With night approaching, that meant using artifacts that would be hard to explain if anyone saw them.
The convoy continued for another hour before reaching the official ambush site. What they found there made Clark's stomach turn.
Burned-out Humvees sat like metal skeletons in the sand, their armor peeled back by explosives that had turned American steel into modern art. The military had already removed bodies and classified equipment, but the scene still spoke of violence and chaos. Clark documented everything with his camera, but his real focus was on details the official investigation would miss.
"Blast patterns suggest the convoy was stopped first, then systematically destroyed. This wasn't random—it was a planned operation with specific objectives."
Using the monocle's enhanced vision, Clark spotted something the cleanup crews had missed: a piece of shrapnel with Stark Industries logos, lodged in a rock formation fifty meters from the main wreckage. More importantly, he found additional tire tracks leading away from the site—tracks that matched what he'd seen earlier.
"They stopped the convoy here, took what they wanted, and headed northwest toward the mountains. Tony's alive, but not for long if I don't move fast."
Clark spent another hour documenting the scene for his cover story, then approached Rodriguez with a request that required careful handling.
"Captain, I'd like to stay behind for a few hours to get some sunset shots of the site. Very important for the documentary's visual narrative."
Rodriguez frowned. "This isn't exactly a safe place to be hanging around alone."
"I understand the risks. But this is the kind of footage that makes the difference between a corporate training video and something that actually matters."
"Journalism as manipulation. Appeal to his sense of purpose and let him convince himself this is reasonable."
After twenty minutes of negotiation, Clark found himself alone at the ambush site with darkness approaching and a collection of artifacts that would either save Tony Stark or get them both killed. The Desert Compass pointed northwest with increasing urgency, and the system whispered coordinates that meant nothing to normal GPS but everything to someone carrying supernatural navigation tools.
Clark activated the Swift Step Boots, feeling them conform to his feet with the snug certainty of purpose. The enhanced speed would let him cover ground quickly while the desert provided natural concealment. He slung his equipment pack, checked his water supply, and began running across terrain that would have challenged a mountain goat.
The boots carried him across sand and stone with superhuman efficiency, each step covering distance that would have taken normal humans five strides. The Desert Compass guided him through wadis and around rock formations, following vehicle tracks that grew fresher with each kilometer. As the sun touched the horizon, painting the mountains in shades of gold and crimson, Clark found what he was looking for.
The Ten Rings compound sat in a natural depression between three hills, camouflaged by clever positioning and local materials but unmistakably a military installation. Clark crouched behind a ridge approximately one kilometer away and deployed the Hawk Eye Monocle's full capabilities.
"Multiple buildings, probably cave systems, definitely fortified. Guard positions, weapons emplacements, vehicle park. And there—tire tracks leading right to the main entrance."
Through the monocle's enhanced vision, Clark could see guards patrolling with automatic weapons, technical vehicles with mounted machine guns, and the general organization of people who took security seriously. This wasn't a random terrorist cell—it was a professional military operation with resources and discipline.
And somewhere inside, Tony Stark was either building weapons for his captors or planning his escape.
Clark settled into a concealed position and began the patient work of surveillance, using artifacts to gather intelligence that would either save the future or document its end. The system counted down in his mind like a heartbeat, and the desert night closed around him with the promise of violence to come.
[MISSION UPDATE: TARGET LOCATED]
[STARK LOCATION CONFIRMED: TEN RINGS COMPOUND]
[GUARD COUNT: 47 ACTIVE PERSONNEL]
[FACILITY TYPE: FORTIFIED CAVE COMPLEX]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: EXTENDED SURVEILLANCE]
[B-TIER MISSION AVAILABLE]
Clark smiled grimly as he adjusted the monocle's focus and prepared for a very long night. Phase one was complete. Tony was alive, and Clark knew where to find him.
Now came the hard part.
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