Chapter 2: My First Day on the Job (And It Sucks)
The first explosion ripped through the serene (read: desolate, soul-crushingly hot, and utterly terrifying) Afghan landscape like a particularly rude alarm clock. Dust, shrapnel, and the distinct scent of high explosives filled the air, replacing the already pleasant aroma of diesel and unwashed bodies. Alex, still reeling from the cosmic joke that was his reincarnation, instinctively flinched, pressing himself deeper into the rough, splintering wood of the truck bed. His hands, still painfully bound behind his back, strained against the coarse rope.
He wasn't just in the Ten Rings' truck, he was practically part of the Ten Rings' truck, a fresh-faced (or rather, fresh-from-the-dead-and-now-covered-in-sand-faced) recruit in a uniform that felt suspiciously authentic and far too scratchy. The men around him, their faces obscured by keffiyehs and a general air of "we mean business and also probably smell like stale cigarettes," let out guttural shouts and began to pile out, rifles at the ready.
"Oh, for crying out loud. I've gone from armchair critic to active participant in a terrorist attack. This is like being cast as a background extra in your favorite movie, except your role is 'unwilling accomplice to kidnapping and probable future cannon fodder.' I didn't even get to audition for this! No agent, no headshot, just a sudden, violent re-casting. And what's with the uniform? Does this come with a dry-cleaning service? Because I'm pretty sure desert dust and explosive residue are not exactly 'spot clean' situations."
Another blast, closer this time, rattled the truck and sent a tremor through Alex's teeth. The lead Humvee, the one with the Stark Industries logo, was already a mangled mess of twisted metal and smoke. Gunfire erupted, a cacophony that sounded far more real and terrifying than anything he'd ever heard through even the most high-fidelity surround sound system.
"Yalla, yalla!" a gruff voice barked from the front of the truck, presumably at him and the other new arrivals. Or maybe it was just a general shout-out to the universe. Hard to tell when your Arabic vocabulary consists primarily of "shawarma" and "hummus."
Alex didn't need a translator to understand the urgency. He stumbled out of the truck, his legs feeling like jelly that had spent too long in a sauna. The searing heat hit him like a physical blow, a stark contrast to the air-conditioned comfort of his old life. He scanned the chaos, trying to pinpoint Tony Stark, trying to get a read on the situation. This wasn't just a movie anymore; this was his new, incredibly dangerous reality.
His eyes darted around, recognizing the iconic rocks, the dusty terrain. The scattered bodies of the American soldiers were already littering the ground. He saw the Humvee that Tony had been in, now engulfed in flames, and then—there! A figure, disoriented but clearly alive, stumbling out of the wreckage. Tony Stark. Yep, that perfectly tailored suit, the disheveled hair, the look of utter bewilderment. Classic.
"Alright, Tony, buddy, try not to get blown up too much. You've got, like, a whole franchise to kick off. And a shrapnel shard to contend with. And then a cave. Oh, the cave. Seriously, if I have to spend any time in a cave with terrible Wi-Fi and even worse company, I'm going to demand a refund on this whole reincarnation package."
He was pushed forward by one of the Ten Rings thugs, a burly guy with a scar that looked like he'd had a disagreement with a particularly sharp piece of cutlery. "Go! Search!" the man grunted, pointing towards the burning wreckage, clearly not caring that Alex's hands were still tied.
Alex felt a cold dread trickle down his spine. Search? What was he supposed to search for? Leftover Doritos? Tony's misplaced car keys? And how was he supposed to do it with his hands bound? This was a real 'Sophie's Choice' situation, except instead of choosing which child to save, he was choosing between getting shot for insubordination or getting blown up by stray ordnance. And neither option sounded particularly appealing.
Then, a sudden, unfamiliar sensation bloomed in his mind, like a tiny, invisible itch behind his eyeballs. A prompt from the Mischief System.
[Mischief Target: Reza, Ten Rings Thug (Proximity detected)]
[Annoyance Potential: Low – Currently busy trying not to get shot.]
[Initiating Starter Gift: F-Rank Skill - Unsettling Ambiance.]
[Effect: Activating a minor paranormal effect that causes feelings of dread and paranoia in a small area.]
[Duration: 15 seconds.]
Alex blinked. Unsettling Ambiance? What in the name of all that is holy was he supposed to do with that? Make the bad guys feel like they forgot to turn off the stove? Scare them with a sudden urge to check if their fly was open? This wasn't exactly a phase-shifting superpower or a suit of indestructible armor. This was... glorified psychological warfare for preschoolers.
Still, he had to try something. He focused, a mental prodding towards the invisible system interface. "Alright, Mischief System, you better not be messing with me. If this 'Unsettling Ambiance' just makes me feel like I forgot my lunch, I'm going to be severely disappointed. And probably dead."
He subtly shifted his weight, trying to orient himself towards the scarred thug who had just pushed him. He imagined a faint, almost imperceptible shiver, a feeling of unease, seeping from him like a bad smell. It felt ridiculous, like trying to scare a bear by making a tiny "boo" sound.
The scarred thug, who had been yelling at another recruit, suddenly stopped mid-sentence. His eyes darted around, a faint frown creasing his brow. He scratched the back of his neck, then looked at his rifle, as if checking to see if it was still there. He shivered slightly, despite the oppressive heat.
"Did... did that actually work? He just shivered! Was it my magnificent aura of existential dread? Or did he just step on a particularly pointy rock? Please be my dread. Please be my dread."
The thug looked around again, his gaze lingering for a moment on Alex, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he dismissed him as just another useless captive. But he didn't bark orders at Alex immediately. Instead, he just stood there for a moment, visibly uncomfortable, then turned back to the other recruit, his voice a little less confident, a little more gruff.
It was a small victory, almost imperceptible. But it was a victory nonetheless. The guy was unsettled. Alex hadn't made him drop his weapon and sing show tunes, but he'd caused a momentary disruption. He'd introduced a tiny, almost homeopathic dose of chaos.
He took a deep breath, the dust filling his lungs. This was it. This was his life now. Surrounded by bad guys, on the cusp of a major canon event, with a "Mischief System" that apparently specialized in making people feel a bit itchy. He had to think. He had to survive.
He saw Tony Stark being roughly dragged towards one of the waiting trucks, his protests muffled by a sack thrown over his head. Good. The plot was progressing as it should. This meant he wasn't going to be shot immediately. Probably.
"Okay, Alex, think. What does a resourceful, utterly unprepared, and sarcastic protagonist do in a situation like this? First, don't die. Second, figure out how to get these damn ropes off. Third, avoid eye contact with anyone who looks like they enjoy gratuitous violence. And fourth, for the love of all that is holy, find some water. My throat feels like a desert road trip through the Sahara."
He watched as the Ten Rings members herded Tony into a truck. Alex was then shoved into a different truck, one already filled with other bound captives, most of them looking as terrified and confused as he felt. He saw a few familiar faces from the movie: the civilian engineers, the soldiers who had survived the initial ambush. And then, he saw him. The older, wise-eyed man, with a quiet dignity even in captivity. Yinsen.
"Alright, Yinsen! My man! We're going to be cellmates, apparently. I hope you're ready for some truly terrible jokes and a lot of unsolicited advice about building miniature arc reactors. And for the record, your hair is looking surprisingly good for someone who's just been through a roadside bombing. What's your secret? Asking for a friend, who is me, and whose hair is currently experiencing a full-blown dust-storm apocalypse."
The truck lurched forward, rattling along the rough terrain. The sounds of gunfire slowly faded, replaced by the rhythmic groan of the engine and the terrified whimpers of his fellow captives. Alex tried to stay calm, to think rationally. He was alive. He had a system, however bizarre. He had foreknowledge, which was like cheating on the final exam of life.
He subtly started to rub his bound wrists against the rough wood of the truck bed, testing the ropes, assessing the friction. It was a long shot, but he had to try. He might not have super strength, but he had persistence, and a deep-seated desire not to die a second, equally embarrassing death.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, eerie shadows across the vast, empty landscape, a new notification flared in his vision. It was blue, serene, and utterly out of place in the grim reality of his predicament.
[Mischief Target: Abu Bakar, Ten Rings Guard (Proximity detected)]
[Annoyance Level: Moderate – Currently trying to maintain an intimidating posture while suffering from inexplicable mild indigestion and an inner ear disturbance.]
[Mischief Point Opportunity: High – Leverage existing paranoia. Cause minor, harmless disruption.]
[Reward Potential: Low-Medium – Basic survival skill or minor utility item.]
Alex grinned, a humorless, almost manic twist of his lips. "Alright, Mischief System, you little sadist. You want mischief? You got it. Let's see how much indigestion I can cause. Because if I'm going to be a captive, I might as well be the most annoying captive they've ever had. It's a niche, but I'm going to own it."
He closed his eyes, picturing the guard, imagining the insidious "Unsettling Ambiance" spreading like a bad rumor. This was just the beginning. The MCU thought it was ready for Alex Kane. It was about to find out how wrong it was.
[Mischief Target: Tony Stark | Annoyance Level: Currently distracted by existential dread and shrapnel.]
[Mischief Target: Raza | Annoyance Level: Moderate - Preoccupied with the inexplicable urge to check his pockets for missing keys.]
[Calculating Rewards...]
[Reward Acquired: F-Rank Skill - "Scavenger's Ingenuity"]
[Hidden Achievement Unlocked: "First Contact (With Your Inevitable Annoyance)"]
[New Plot Alert: The Iron Man Origin Story (Now with more sarcastic commentary!). Opportunity for resourceful, cave-based mischief.]