At noon, the Afghan desert was practically hell. With the sunlight beating down unobstructed and reflecting off the sand and gravel, temperatures here could rise above forty degrees Celsius. Even desert dwellers generally would not venture out at this time of day, yet someone was now stumbling across the dunes on foot.
He looked utterly bedraggled, and his clothing was not at all what someone traveling through the desert should wear. Instead of a robe that could prevent sunburn, he wore black trousers and a green tank top, with his jacket wrapped around his head as a veil against the wind and sand. To ordinary people, appearing in a place like this dressed that way was practically suicide. In truth, he really was close to death.
This man was the famous Tony Stark, president of Stark Industries. He had only come to Afghanistan for an arms deal, but he had never expected this place to become the place that changed his life.
After successfully using the power of the new Jericho Missile to bluff the military bigwigs, the arms deal had proceeded very smoothly. At the time, he had been feeling immensely pleased with himself. He rejected his friend Rhodey's suggestion to take a helicopter and willfully chose a jeep instead.
But no one could have expected that disaster would strike while he was chatting and laughing with the soldiers in the vehicle. He was attacked, every escorting soldier was killed, and then, in a deeply ironic twist, he was knocked unconscious by a bomb manufactured by his own company.
Fortunately, the terrorists who attacked him did not want to kill him. Unfortunately, they were not after ransom either, so money could not solve the problem.
Even more unfortunately, the bombs he designed were simply too good. Even if they