The night on Long Island, New York, was quiet and deep, the faint sound of waves drifting in from the distance.
Pepper Potts pushed open the door of the villa in high heels, exhaustion etched across her face. In the darkness, she fumbled for the light switch on the wall.
She was drained—from days of meetings and tense negotiations with the military, from endless travel, and above all, from the man who had been missing for over two months… the man she missed every hour of every day.
Snap—
The moment the living room lights flickered on, Pepper's pupils contracted sharply.
A man sat on the sofa.
He wore a dark red leather windbreaker, its hem falling like flickering flames. His long, dark red hair was tied into a high ponytail that gleamed with a metallic sheen under the light.
His expression was stern, his fiery red eyes burning like embers as they locked onto hers.
Pepper's heart skipped a beat—but years of high-stakes corporate experience kicked in. She suppressed her shock instantly.
She didn't scream. She didn't flinch. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly and asked, voice calm but edged with steel:
"Who are you? And why are you here?"
At her composure, the man—Diluc—raised an eyebrow, faintly surprised.
He rose to his feet. His windbreaker shifted with the motion, silent as shadow.
When he stepped closer, he introduced himself with quiet brevity:
"Diluc Ragnvindr. An information broker."
Pepper's gaze swept over his flamboyant attire—and the massive two-handed sword leaning against the sofa. Dark red lines pulsed faintly along its blade, like solidified fire.
An information broker? she thought. With that outfit? More like a cosplayer…
But her mind raced. Anyone who could bypass Stark Industries' perimeter security—silent, unseen, slipping past cameras and armed patrols designed by Tony himself—was no amateur.
Diluc added, "I saw the bounty notice Stark Industries published in the news. That's why I'm here."
Hope flared in Pepper's chest. All fatigue vanished in an instant.
She strode forward, briefcase still clutched in her hand, and asked urgently:
"Do you know what happened to Tony? Where is he? Is he still alive?"
Her voice trembled with barely restrained desperation, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag.
Diluc shook his head. "I don't know Mr. Stark's exact location."
The hope deflated like a punctured balloon. Her shoulders sagged.
"But," he continued, "I know someone who does."
Pepper's eyes lit up again. Her posture straightened; her negotiator's instincts surged back.
"So," she said, tone now sharp and professional, "what's your price, Mr. Diluc?"
Already, she was calculating available assets—emergency funds, board approvals, even liquidating personal holdings if needed.
Diluc raised a single finger.
Pepper exhaled in relief and immediately pulled a strangely shaped silver key from her briefcase. It was gunmetal gray, embedded with intricate circuitry that glowed faintly under the light.
"This unlocks a private vault at IBV Bank. Inside is approximately three million dollars in untraceable cash."
She set the key on the coffee table and slid it toward him.
"If you tell me who knows where Tony is, it's yours. And if that lead brings me to him—alive—I'll pay the remaining seven million in full."
Diluc didn't reach for the key. Instead, he met her gaze and said quietly:
"You don't seem to suspect this might be a scam."
Hearing this, Pepper Potts looked around and said helplessly:
"This community has an extremely high level of security. The villa's security system was designed by Tony himself—so advanced that not even an unauthorized mosquito could get through. Yet you not only breached the outer perimeter but did so without triggering a single alarm.
That alone proves your reputation as an intelligence dealer is backed by real capability."
She paused, then added:
"As for the scam… it's only a loss of three million. Not a big deal to me."
Hearing this, Diluc was silent for a moment, then spoke in a voice as calm as a deep pool:
"In the mountains of Afghanistan, there's an extremist terrorist organization known as the Ten Rings. Though it hasn't existed for long, it's grown at an alarming rate.
From what I've uncovered, their weapons, funding, and intelligence networks are all deeply tied to Stark Industries.
In other words, the Ten Rings' rapid rise wouldn't have been possible without Stark Industries' support."
"Impossible!"
Pepper Potts blurted out, her fingers unconsciously clenching the armrest of the sofa. "Tony has always stood against terrorism! He would never be involved in something like this! And as his closest aide—his CEO—I'd know if anything like that were happening."
"I'm not talking about Tony Stark," Diluc said calmly. "Please don't jump to conclusions, Ms. Potts."
"Then who?"
"Obadiah Stane."
Before Pepper could protest again, Diluc continued:
"He wanted to take over Stark Industries—but he didn't want to risk his own hands. So instead of acting directly, he waited for the right moment. When Tony traveled to Afghanistan to demonstrate the Jericho missile to the military, Obadiah leaked his itinerary to the Ten Rings and instructed them to eliminate him."
As he spoke, Diluc took a step closer, the hem of his windbreaker brushing against the cold marble floor.
"But the Ten Rings saw more value in keeping Tony alive. They captured him and forced him to build weapons in a cave—though not the Jericho. It was something else… something that would change everything."
Listening to Diluc's words, Pepper's breathing quickened. Obadiah's recent behavior flashed through her mind: his frequent, secretive meetings with high-ranking military officials, his efforts to stall the board's search for Tony…
Seeing the dawning realization in her eyes, Diluc crossed his arms and added:
"As the Ten Rings' primary backer, Obadiah Stane almost certainly knows the location of their stronghold—or at the very least, how to contact them.
Watch his movements closely. You'll find what you're looking for.
I trust this answers your question, Ms. Potts."
Pepper's expression darkened. "I'd like to see actual evidence—not just speculation."
"I'm not a detective or a police officer," Diluc replied evenly. "I don't deal in evidence. I'm an intelligence dealer. All I provide are conclusions."
Pepper locked eyes with him, searching those fiery red pupils for any sign of deceit.
After a long silence, she finally relented. She tossed the key in her hand to Diluc and said:
"I hope you're not lying to me, Mr. Diluc."
"Have the remaining seven million ready, Miss Potts."