"It should be close."
After several passes, Rowan Mercer noticed the glowing arrow waver again and again within a hundred-meter radius. He signaled Isa to keep the jet cloaked and hovering, then stepped into open air and dropped from the hatch without hesitation.
He caught himself in mid-descent, drifting above a narrow desert valley. Through binoculars, the target finally came into focus: a crude military outpost built tight against a cave mouth. Stacks of artillery shells marked with Stark Industries logos were piled outside. Armed men in mismatched gear patrolled the perimeter, rifles slung loose but ready.
Rowan didn't rush in. Under cover of night, he slipped down the valley wall and chose a high vantage point, setting his sniper rifle aside nearby. The visible guards were one thing. Hidden sentries were another. Charging straight in risked walking into a crossfire he couldn't dodge in time.
If only he could turn invisible, he thought. That spell was still out of reach.
"So I'll make them come out instead."
He lowered the rifle and raised his hands.
A hiss cut through the night.
Another.
Then another.
One by one, desert rattlesnakes slid into existence at his feet, summoned in quick succession. The spell was simple, but relentless repetition did the work. Magic here wasn't about limits so much as endurance. Rowan kept going, arms burning, voice hoarse, until the sand around him writhed.
Hundreds of snakes gathered, coils overlapping, tongues flicking.
He exhaled, flexing his aching shoulders. "Figures. Slytherin through and through."
Without a wand, the pace was brutal. It had taken hours of continuous casting to reach this number. With proper equipment, he could have done it in minutes. Another reason to fix that problem soon.
He extended a hand.
"Spread out. Bite anything that moves."
The snakes surged downhill like living water, pouring into every crevice of the valley. No sentry, no matter how well hidden, could stay concealed with that many eyes and fangs searching.
The screams started soon after.
Rowan couldn't understand the language, but the panic was unmistakable. Gunfire erupted as patrols broke formation, racing to help unseen comrades dragged out by venomous bites. The perimeter collapsed into chaos.
Inside the cave, a lieutenant burst into the commander's quarters.
"Sir! Our men outside are getting hit by snakes!"
The bald commander leapt from his bed, already half-convinced the camp had been discovered. When he heard it was "just snakes," he kicked the messenger to the floor.
"Then treat them! This is the desert. Snakes happen."
"Not one or two," the man said, scrambling up. "Hundreds. Maybe more."
That gave the commander pause.
He pulled up the external cameras. The screens filled with motion, serpents swarming guards, men firing wildly, stumbling back toward the cave.
"Leave two to watch Stark," he snapped. "Everyone else grab flamethrowers. We'll turn this place into a barbecue."
Outside the cave, Tony Stark heard the noise and leaned toward the door, only to be shoved back by two armed guards. Inside, he and Dr. Farid exchanged a tense glance.
"Doesn't sound like it's about us," Tony muttered.
"Let's hope it stays that way," Farid replied.
They returned to their work, hands moving faster. If the guards realized what they were building, there would be no second chances.
Above the valley, Rowan steadied his sniper rifle. Through the scope, he watched the Iron Front commander stride into the open, barking orders, flamethrower units moving up behind him.
Rowan smiled faintly.
"Didn't expect you to show yourself," he murmured. "That saves me some trouble."