Finding the Cave Where Stark Was Held

, A System Worker in Marvel

"Another day had passed."

Rayner sighed, then secretly glanced at Mike. What he really wanted to say was, "Another fruitless day."

"Yeah."

The corners of Mike's mouth lifted slightly.

They had finally found the Ten Rings' base. His premonition had been right after all.

The only question was whether Stark was being held inside.

The cave was well hidden, with camouflage outside. It was normal that Rayner had failed to notice it, but it could not escape Mike's Observation Haki.

Mike did not alert the enemy. Instead, he returned to the temporary camp as usual, showered, and ate.

Then he called Pepper and asked her to arrange for a vehicle to be left outside the Air Force base.

It was midnight.

"I think I rather like heading out at midnight. Good thing I'm in great shape and can stay up."

It could not be helped. The darkness was natural cover, and people naturally grew sleepy in the latter half of the night—unless they were night owls.

Mike equipped Zabuza Momochi's Possession Card and easily slipped past the surveillance cameras and sentries to leave the base.

Following the location Pepper had provided, Mike arrived at a small wooded area, where a military Hummer was parked.

Mike walked over.

The window rolled down, revealing Hawkeye's face.

"I only asked for a car. I didn't expect it to come with a driver," Mike said with a faintly teasing smile.

"I just wanted to help... I mean, do you need a driver?" Hawkeye looked a little awkward, probably because he had never told such a lousy lie before.

"Do you charge?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, do I not have to pay you?"

"How about... you just give me whatever?"

Mike entered the coordinates into the navigation system, and Clint started the vehicle.

At around eighty kilometers per hour, Clint asked, "Is this speed okay?"

"It's fine. Pretty good," Mike praised. "It's fast, and super steady too. With driving skills like yours, you could still make a living even if you weren't an agent."

Clint said, "My eyesight is pretty good, so I can spot potholes in advance. But that was a compliment, right?"

Mike answered firmly, "Of course."

The roads outside the Air Force base were terrible, and people often sabotaged them deliberately. A pit dug here, a rock placed there, a row of caltrops laid out somewhere else—no matter how experienced the driver was, they would not dare drive too fast. The worst was running over a homemade land mine. It could blow your ass sky-high.

The two remained silent for a long time.

Clint suddenly said, "Charlie talked... Charlie is the mercenary codenamed Flamingo."

Mike smiled. "That name is surprisingly ordinary."

Clint continued, "Flamingo cracked ten hours after being brought back to the base. He demanded that his family's safety be guaranteed before handing over the recorded evidence stored in a station locker. It took twelve hours in total."

Rubbing his chin, Mike said, "He deliberately dragged it out for twelve hours. At least he did not completely betray his employer..."

"That's right. By the time the agents went to Obadiah's residence, he had already disappeared."

"That's normal," Mike said. "The disappearance of two mercenaries for so long would have alerted Obadiah. But he must still be in New York, just hiding and watching. A single recording isn't enough to bring him down completely."

Mike himself had studied law. As long as you spent enough money and hired a sufficiently dreamlike legal team, they could call black white and the dead alive.

Clint sighed. "Sigh... alerting the enemy... Stark's situation is even more dangerous now. So when Pepper heard that you wanted a car, she thought you might have made a breakthrough. At Miss Potts's request, my mission is to assist you."

"So that's why a dignified senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is working as someone's driver?"

"One of the reasons... According to Flamingo, you intercepted miniature missiles with a knife from a distance and parachuted from fifty meters in the air without equipment. I'm curious—that's another reason."

About two hours later, Mike signaled for Clint to stop.

"We're here already?" Clint asked.

"How could we be? It's still another two or three miles away. There are few people around here. Driving any farther would make us easy to spot," Mike explained briefly.

So Clint carried his sniper rifle case and wore his bow on his back as he followed Mike over mountains and ridges.

Stop!

Mike made a hand signal.

Clint took out his Night Vision binoculars and carefully observed a small valley. With his exceptional eyesight, he could make out several tents at the bottom, with all kinds of weapons casually piled in the open and only loosely covered by camouflage netting. Yet it was precisely this crude disguise that had evaded all kinds of high-tech surveillance.

Clint noticed Mike staring intently at a cave entrance halfway up the slope.

"Is that where Stark is being held?" Clint asked quietly.

"Not sure. Before, I was about fifty percent certain. Now... ninety percent!"

Mike was extremely confident. From this angle, the cave entrance and the scene outside it were almost exactly the same as the silhouette in the movie.

The remaining uncertainty was due to the Butterfly Effect.

"Two armed guards out in the open at the entrance, with two hidden sentry posts nearby on each side."

Clint's eyes grew brighter and brighter. In such a remote wilderness, such tight security meant an important person was being kept here.

Clint asked, "What's the plan? What do you need me to do?"

Mike said, "There is one. Stay here obediently and provide remote support."

Clint said, "..."

The passion in his chest was instantly doused.

That was it?

Just as Clint was about to protest, he saw thick white fog appear in the air. His Night Vision goggles became useless, and Mike beside him vanished.

Suddenly, every hair on Clint's body stood on end. A chill ran down his spine as he turned around. Mike stood behind him, blood dripping from his katana.

"There were three hidden sentry posts. One on each side outside the cave, and one across from us... on this side, not far from us. The three formed a triangle and watched out for each other." Mike's voice sounded ethereal.

Clint understood where the blood on Mike's blade had come from. He had overlooked one of the hidden sentry posts. Perhaps that was what people meant by darkness beneath the lamp.

But Mike had not only found it—he had dealt with it.

Clint swallowed. If Mike had attacked him just now, would he have noticed? He subconsciously reached for his throat, feeling a faint chill there.

Just as Clint was about to say something, Mike stepped back and vanished into the fog.

"What should I do?" As a senior agent, Clint's mind raced. In the end, he decided to wait and watch.

Two or three in the morning was when people were most likely to grow exhausted. Though there were several visible and hidden sentry posts, their long period of ease had made them lower their guard long ago. Some hugged their rifles and slept deeply, while others were barely able to keep their eyes open.

The thick fog spread, and Mike knew everything within it like the back of his hand. Whether visible sentries or hidden ones, every single one was killed before they could make a sound.

As for the people in the tents, Mike knocked them unconscious with heavy blows as well.

The scent of blood drifted through the fog. Clint became more focused and more tense, like a tightly drawn bowstring.

In contrast, Mike was completely at ease. As he had expected, finding Stark was the difficult part of this assignment. These Ten Rings terrorists might throw their weight around in front of civilians, but their standards were only at gang level.

No wonder Obadiah's men had wiped them out so easily in the movie.

Stark had been imprisoned for over a month. Encouraged by Yinsen, he had already pulled himself together and rekindled his hope of living. The Mark I blueprints had now been completed, and it was time to begin building it.

Clang, clang, clang...

The sound of a hammer striking steel rang out.

Stark suddenly stopped, gripping his hammer as he turned toward the cave entrance.

"What's wrong?" Yinsen asked.

The latter half of the night was when the terrorists were most lax, making it the best time to build the armor. They had to hurry.

"It sounds like someone is knocking on the door," Stark said.

"You must have heard wrong," Yinsen said, thinking, Is he hallucinating too? Being imprisoned in such a sunless place really can cause mental trauma.

"Probably."

Stark gave a bitter smile. Terrorists would never knock politely. They would only smash the door down roughly or barge right in.