The renowned entrepreneur, genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, Tony Stark, went missing in Afghanistan a few days ago.
In addition, there is another matter requiring everyone's attention: a jewelry exhibition sponsored by Winston Jewelry was held at the Irene Hotel in downtown New York City, but unfortunately, the event was targeted by a robbery.
At the same time, a headless body was discovered in an alley in Brooklyn.
These incidents have left people shocked and uneasy.
Therefore, I urge everyone to be extra cautious when going out at night and to take necessary precautions to ensure their safety.
I hope the police can solve these cases as soon as possible and bring the criminals to justice to maintain peace and fairness in society.
Thank you!
John, sitting on the school bus, listened to the news playing on his phone with a slight smile, wearing his headphones.
"Has Iron Man finally gone missing?" he mused to himself.
John wasn't surprised by the playboy's disappearance; after all, he had always kept an eye on such news.
However, this incident made him realize an important opportunity—he still had a few months to raise funds.
This thought excited him greatly, as he knew that by seizing this window of time, he could achieve his goals.
Afterward, the news reported the jewelry heist.
John was not shocked; in bustling New York City, only a few powerful gangs would dare commit such a bold crime.
These criminal organizations often engage in illegal activities but usually launder stolen money through a series of complex operations to legitimize it.
John devised a plan to wait until these gangs had laundered the illicit funds before making his move.
Once the money laundering process was complete, he could seize the opportunity to take these ill-gotten gains for himself.
This plan required patience, precise timing, courage, and wisdom.
But John believed that with his abilities and determination, success was inevitable.
Thinking of this, John couldn't help but secretly delight in his own astonishing wisdom.
He felt as if he could already see a future of immense wealth flowing to him, filling his heart with anticipation and excitement.
However, few seemed to care about the headless body in Brooklyn, which was expected.
After all, murder cases happen there every week.
If there wasn't a murder this week, the national media would go crazy, as if the absence of Brooklyn murders threatened the very existence of the United States.
Watching these news reports, John felt a headache coming on; the media seemed to thrive on chaos.
Indeed, media outlets around the world are the same.
I must acquire a media company someday.
Having a sword and not using it is no different from not having a sword at all.
Time jumps back a few days to when Stark flew to the Middle East.
At a mineral exploration camp owned by Stark Industries in Afghanistan, more than a dozen heavily armored vehicles, wildly styled, kicked up a storm of sand before coming to a halt in the center of the camp.
"Get out! Quickly! Faster!" Morgan, wearing a red hat and black face mask, jumped out of a vehicle, banging his right fist twice on its side.
Then, five or six armed soldiers, similarly dressed, jumped out from behind the vehicles.
"Who's in charge here?" a bearded man with a black striped headscarf, standing behind Morgan, shouted at the Stark Industries personnel who were gathered nearby.
"I am," a blond man with slicked-back hair stepped forward from the crowd.
He wore a white tank top that revealed his well-defined muscles.
"Yes, are you here to pick up the goods?" Morgan asked.
"Over a thousand rifles, forty rocket launchers, grenades, and bullets, all designed for desert combat.
Our weapons, even buried in sand for a full day, look like new when dug out!
Some are from stock, others we use ourselves, so a few may look old, but quality is guaranteed!
Feel free to inspect them!"
"We can't help it; our leader is pressing us hard. It's impressive you gathered everything in just one day!" The red-hatted man opened a box, carefully inspected an M1911, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Alright, we have the goods. Let's go." Morgan led his men back into the vehicles.
Once they left the camp, Morgan answered his phone.
"Sir, yes, it's me, Thomas.
We have received the weapons. Any instructions?"
Obadiah looked at a photo of himself and Tony on the table, a flicker of reluctance passing over his face.
Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "I have only one request: kill Tony Stark!"
"Tony Stark?" Morgan hesitated, then replied, "We are friends; that's certainly no problem, Sir."
"Goodbye, friend!" Obadiah hung up and gazed at the photo, muttering, "I will make Stark Industries prosper.
I hope you don't blame me."
He even shed crocodile tears.
Meanwhile, the leader of the Ten Rings Gang, having received a report from a subordinate, pondered, "Isn't Stark a genius?
Why does Obadiah want to kill this golden goose?
Why don't I kidnap him and force him to make weapons for me?
Then our Ten Rings Gang can dominate the Middle East."
Once this thought formed, it quickly became irresistible.
He used his walnut-sized brain for a long time and realized the plan seemed feasible.
"Gentlemen, with just one missile launch like this, I swear the bad guys will hide in their caves and never come out."
With that, Stark casually waved his hand, and a missile launched instantly.
The rising mushroom cloud, mixed with violent gusts, swept across the mountain range.
The wind was strong enough to be felt kilometers away.
I want him. I must have him!
The Ten Rings Gang leader was already dreaming of ruling the Arab world after capturing Stark.
After learning Stark planned to take a jeep to the Afghan capital for inspection, the Ten Rings Gang decisively launched their operation.
The mountainous terrain provided ideal cover.
Under the watchful eyes of U.S. military satellites, the Ten Rings Gang set up an ambush, ready to attack Stark.
Vehicles stirred up conspicuous dust in the desert, visible from afar.
To escort such an important taxpayer as Tony Stark, the military dispatched five vehicles, firmly protecting Stark's jeep in the center of the convoy.
At that moment, Stark didn't know his jovial ride was about to turn grim as he joked with others in the jeep.
"Prepare! 3! 2! 1! Fire!" The Ten Rings Gang leader commanded over his walkie-talkie and raised his AK-47, firing a burst into the sky.
Missiles aimed at Stark immediately blew the convoy protecting his jeep to smithereens.
The jeep overturned from the blast.
Two soldiers inside didn't even comprehend what happened before being blown to fragments along with the vehicle's front half.
"What the hell happened?" Stark hid behind a rock in terror, fingers rapidly manipulating something on the emergency beacon.
Suddenly, a whistling sound approached.
Stark looked over to see a missile stamped with "Stark Industries" land precisely beside him.
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Stark hurriedly put the beacon away and anxiously retreated.
When the missile exploded, it knocked Stark to the ground, leaving him dusty and disheveled.
Tony opened his shirt and found his bulletproof vest had been penetrated, then fainted.
Inside a cave in Afghanistan, an unconscious Tony awoke.
Seeing a car battery connected to his chest, Stark asked Ethan, "What have you done to me?"
"I saved your life," Ethan replied casually.
Voices of terrorists came from outside.
"Hurry up, stand up, get up!"
The Ten Rings Gang leader pushed open the door and babbled some words at Stark.
Stark looked at Ethan in confusion, hoping he would translate.
Ethan pondered briefly, then said, "He said, 'Welcome to Afghanistan.'"