There was an unsolved mystery in the Murdock family that had baffled Old Jack and Matt for years.
It was about their youngest—Finnian Murdock.
Since childhood, Finnian couldn't stomach local American food. Instead, he had a bizarre obsession with Chinese cuisine.
Jack and Matt never spoke of it to outsiders, but they treated him as their own blood. And Finnian, in return, acknowledged his old man and his cheap older brother as family.
"Stay safe."
"You too, brother."
With that, Finnian left the law office in the evening, waiting until night to drive back to Chinatown.
Hell's Kitchen was about to descend into chaos, which meant Matt would soon be suiting up as Daredevil.
Finnian didn't really get why his brother insisted on upholding justice every damn night. But he supported him anyway. Everyone had the right to choose their own path.
Matt thought Finnian didn't know. Too bad for him—Finnian not only had a system, but he also knew exactly how the future would play out.
Two cheats for the price of one.
Inside his beat-up Mazda, Finnian pulled up a screen no one else could see.
[Finnian Murdock, 23 years old]
Height: 1.87 m
Abilities: Bajiquan, Radar Sense
Weapons & Equipment: White Can Armor
Pet: Mechanical Dog (Cassette Legion)
Mall Balance: $0
"I'm broke as fuck."
Before getting his hands on the White Can Armor, the only expensive things he'd managed to buy were the Radar Sense and his pet—the Mechanical Dog.
Radar Sense was the same as Matt's ability.
The Mechanical Dog, on the other hand, was straight out of the Transformers universe—the same monster mutt that once wrecked a U.S. military base.
It was also the dog that helped wipe out the gang who had threatened Old Jack, leaving Finnian free to reclaim Chinatown as his turf.
If Happy and Pepper hadn't shown up desperate to find Tony Stark, Finnian honestly had no idea how long it would've taken to save up five million for the White Can Armor.
One truth remained: make money. Always make more money.
The drive back to Chinatown was uneventful. Nobody bothered to touch his second-hand Mazda—probably too embarrassed to steal it.
At the office, Finnian grabbed the cassette that housed the dog, slipped into an alley, and activated the White Can Armor.
In seconds, he shot into the night sky.
Flight.
The dream of humanity.
The moment the wind roared past him, Finnian understood exactly why Tony grinned like a lunatic during his first flight.
This was freedom. Unshackled, intoxicating freedom. The kind buried in humanity's DNA.
"Ohhh, wooohhh!"
Even if he could only soar thanks to the system, Finnian swore that one day he'd do it on his own. He'd fly under his own power—teleport, cross stars, rip open space itself.
A cheater had every right to be confident.
More confident than that damn hedgehog.
Two hours later.
The White Can Armor landed with a thud in Afghanistan.
Finnian surveyed the endless mountain ranges. His smirk faded.
"…Shit. With this many caves, how the hell am I supposed to know which one Beard Boy's locked in?"
He rubbed his chin.
"In the movie, the Mark I crashed in the desert. So, their cave can't be too far from one of these."
It was dawn in Afghanistan (8 hours ahead of New York).
Splitting up, Finnian and the Mechanical Dog each activated Radar Sense, sweeping the terrain cave by cave.
Meanwhile. Inside one particular cave.
Tony Stark and Dr. Ho Yinsen were jolted awake by the Ten Rings thugs.
"Up. Work."
"Weapons. We want Stark Industries weapons."
At first, Tony had refused. They'd waterboarded him until he was half-dead. After that? He adapted.
"Okay, okay! Weapons. Weapons."
He was filthy, weak, with a magnet embedded in his chest—unrecognizable from the arrogant billionaire playboy he once was.
Dr. Yinsen, in contrast, was calm. Hair neat, suit intact, even wearing a tie.
After the thugs left, Tony leaned toward him.
"Doc. I've got an idea… blah blah blah… maybe it's our way out."
Yinsen glanced at the surveillance camera.
"Tony, we don't have the tools. Or the materials."
"Materials? They're right outside. Those missiles—they've got everything we need."
After a pause, Yinsen sighed and nodded.
Together, they bluffed their captors, arguing through broken language until Tony convinced them. The thugs handed over what they thought he needed.
Then it began.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Hammering echoed through the cave.
Tony was building something new. Something revolutionary.
Something to make these bastards regret ever touching him.
Shit. I'd kill for a hamburger right now.
Back in New York.
Stark Industries, Chairman's Office.
Happy Hogan carried a paper bag stuffed with burgers—the kind he always bought for Tony. He wanted them ready the second his boss returned.
Pepper Potts looked up. "Happy, any word from the detectives?"
"No news yet."
Both sighed. They'd burned through leads, even hired private detectives. Most turned out to be frauds.
If Tony didn't come back soon, neither of them would have jobs much longer.
Pepper hesitated. "What about that one detective? The one who asked for five million?"
Happy's face darkened. "Don't even start. At least the other frauds bought tickets to Afghanistan. That guy? Didn't even leave New York."
"So… we got scammed?"
"He doesn't feel like a scammer," Happy admitted grudgingly. "Just… different. Maybe he really has a way. Let's wait a little longer."
Elsewhere in New York.
The SHIELD Director's office.
Nick Fury pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to the line crackle.
"Clint. Any news?"
On the other end, Clint Barton's voice came through steady. "No luck yet, sir. Nat and I are still searching."
"Alright. Stay sharp."
Fury hung up.
It had been ten days since he sent his two top agents to track Stark. Still nothing.
He stared out the window, frowning.
"They better not have gotten themselves killed…"