Suddenly, Tony Stark slapped his forehead.
"That's right… I've been missing for three months. No doubt the outside world has already declared me dead. The media's probably run obituaries, and the U.S. government has likely marked my identity as deceased in official records."
He jolted upright, the urgency hitting him like an arc reactor overload.
"I need to make a call get someone to pick me up get back to Stark Tower immediately. There's still so much left to do."
He turned to the young man still seated at the banquet table.
"Thanks for the meal,Kalroth El, right? That's your name? I'll remember it. I'll definitely find you again—just wait!"
Tony extended his hand subtly, clearly expecting the stranger to hand him a phone.
Carrot El, however, merely swirled his red wine glass. The burgundy liquid spun gently under the light, but his expression remained still, detached.
Then his eyes drifted not toward Tony, but through the walls, beyond the layers of reinforced titanium and carbon fiber that made up the room, as if something far away had captured his attention.
He set the wine glass down without urgency and said in a low voice:
"If you can get out… then go wherever you want."
Tony blinked, confused by the non-answer.Kalroth hadn't moved an inch to assist him, hadn't even acknowledged the request for communication.
"Right. Thanks again for the burger and the wine. If you won't lend me a phone, I'll figure it out on my own."
Dusting off his clothes, Stark walked toward the door, each step still shaky from trauma, but powered by resolve.
He had narrowly escaped death. He had been reborn in fire, molded by darkness, by the cave, by the silence of the desert and the ringing in his ears after every missile blast.
And yet, this man this boy, really treated it all like nothing.
Carrot simply watched in silence as Stark reached the entrance and pulled the door open.
And was met with a wave of golden light.
Blinding sunlight poured into the doorway. A hot wind surged in. Tony staggered back, raising a hand to shield his eyes.
Endless dunes stretched before him.
The world outside was not Manhattan.
It was sand. An ocean of scorching, sun-bleached desert. The temperature must've been pushing 110 degrees Fahrenheit. The heat shimmered in waves off the golden hills, painting the air with mirage-like ripples.
Stark's jaw slackened. His mind refused to process it.
"What… the hell…?"
He stepped forward in disbelief. Wind kicked up grains of sand that stung his cheeks. He squinted against the solar glare. It wasn't a simulation he felt the dry heat on his skin, the grit in his throat.
"I was inside. That room was in a building… wasn't it?"
He spun around, slammed the door shut, and backed away from it like it might explode.
"Help… help OH SHIT! WHAT IS THIS?! WHY IS IT STILL A DESERT OUTSIDE?!"
His voice cracked. Panic swelled in his chest. Stark's legs gave out, and he fell backward, trembling.
The trauma of his kidnapping came flooding back. The cave in Afghanistan. The Jericho missile test. Yinsen. The escape suit.
"This isn't real. This can't be real!"
His gaze darted toKalroth El, who was calmly dabbing his lips with a linen napkin. His face showed no surprise, no amusement, just calm observation.
Tony's breathing became erratic. The irrational part of his mind screamed hallucination. Or death. Or both.
"Is this a trick?! A drug-induced illusion?! Am I already dead?"
He collapsed fully to the floor, paralyzed by fear. Dread pooled in his chest like lead.
Carrot looked down at him, expression unreadable. Then, with a deliberate motion, he asked softly:
"Where do you think you are now?"
Tony gulped, trying to form words. His voice was a whisper:
"This… isn't New York?"
Carrot reached toward a gleaming platter, picked up a massive Australian lobster tail still in its shell, and with a shocking gulp, devoured it in a single motion—shell, meat, everything.
Tony's eyes bulged.
"Did you just—eat that in one bite?!"
Carrot ignored the question.
"You passed out in the desert. Do you really think you could just wake up in New York? What are you Nightcrawler?"
That comment hit him harder than expected.
Tony rubbed his face, reeling from the barrage of impossibilities. Sweat rolled down his temples. Still, the sharp analytical core of his mind kept ticking, slicing through emotion like Jarvis dissecting a probability map.
"This building it shouldn't exist."
He forced himself to his feet, legs wobbling, and staggered toward the doorway again.
"This place… this mansion… is impossible. You've got high-end medical pods, a molecular forge, even a satellite uplink running direct-spectrum broadband stuff that costs hundreds of millions to install in New York, let alone in the middle of a desert."
He turned, voice rising:
"There's no water here. No building materials. No power lines. No infrastructure. How the hell did you build this?"
He gestured to the immaculate floors, the glowing monitors, the food, the artificial gravity field humming beneath the surface.
"These news broadcasts you played did you fake them too? What is this? Are you trying to gain my trust with some twisted simulation?"
His voice cracked at the edge. He wasn't sure if he was accusing, pleading, or begging.
Carrot's gaze didn't shift. He'd seen this expression before a rational man clawing for logic in a world that had stopped obeying it.
Power made people uneasy. That was the nature of it. It didn't matter how soft the voice, how calm the actions. Power bred fear.
Carrot had seen this same look from others before SHIELD agents, Kree emissaries, terrified farmers in the Outlands, even some of the Z Warriors. Only a handful hadn't feared him Dr. and Mrs. Breeze, Bulma, and of course, the Kents.
"If Hank Pym found out I saved you,"Kalroth muttered dryly, "he'd probably faint."
He took a sip of wine, then continued to cut the steak with surgical precision. The blade moved like a scalpel, trimming meat from bone as if performing an autopsy.
"What should I say now? That you're clever? Fast-reacting? Some genius, maybe?"
He scoffed lightly.
"No. That's nonsense. An eight-year-old could've seen through this setup. You took way too long to get there. Honestly? It's disappointing."
The words struck Tony harder than expected. Sarcasm like acid, calm but precise.
He froze, then narrowed his eyes. His mind flashed back to the Ten Rings—to Raza, to the cave, to betrayal. WasKalroth with them?
"Who are you?" Stark whispered. "Are you part of them?"
Carrot set his knife down with a soft clink.
"A shame, really. You're not nearly as sharp as the other one."
Tony blinked.
"The other what?"
ButKalroth ignored the question. He turned slightly and gestured toward the front entrance.
"You want answers? You'll get them. But first, you've got company."
Tony turned his head. The desert heat made the air shimmer, but beyond the distortions, figures were approaching.
Armed. Tactical. Moving in formation.
Through the waves of sand and wind, a squad of mercenaries emerged on the horizon. Their weapons glinted under the sun. Stark recognized the silhouette of modified Stark Industries MK-II rifles illegal prototypes stolen years ago.
"Well,"Kalroth said coolly, still seated. "Looks like someone found you."
Stark stared at them in horror. He wasn't rescued.
He'd just been found.