PEACETIME WAS NOT usually very profitable for Tony Stark. This wasn’t something he stressed over. Truth be told, something he didn’t even realize just how much of a dip shares of Stark Industries’ stock took when things were going well in the world.
Tony’s late father, Howard, had left him the multibillion dollar corporation in very healthy shape, so even in the worst of times, when the nations of the world were playing nicely, the company still did just fine.
Of course, Tony was a brilliant businessman, but his real love—other than partying—was technology. At age four he built his first circuit board, at six his first engine, and at seventeen he graduated suma cum laude from MIT. At age twenty one—a few years after Howard’s passing—Tony became the CEO of Stark Industries.
Fortunately for shareholders, these were not the worst of times for Stark Industries. True, the global economy had been sputtering, but America was involved in multiple wars and other overseas military operations. These conflicts required armor, vehicles, and weaponry, and Stark Industries was the nation’s top supplier of military equipment and technologies.
And that’s exactly what brought Tony to Afghanistan’s Kunar Province. He was scheduled to meet with military officials to present the Jericho—the crown jewel in Stark Industries line of missiles and the first to incorporate their proprietary repulsor technology. The repulsors would ensure accuracy and exponentially increase the weapons’ power.
Tony looked out over the arid landscape, turned to the gathered crowds, and nodded. With the press of a button, the Jerichos launched and began arcing overhead. Upon impact, the missiles leveled a crest of uninhabited hills and literally blew off the hats of the officers observing the demonstration.
And that’s all there was to it. Twenty four hours worth of travel from Malibu to Afghanistan for a demonstration that lasted less than five minutes. Now it was time for a cool drink, then back into the convoy for another quick stop before boarding a private jet and heading home.
Tony hopped into his unglamorous armored vehicle and sipped his drink, as the convoy rolled away. For almost ten years, the area had been a hotbed of military activity. But as the convoy drove on, kicking up storms of sandy dust, Tony had a difficult time imagining that this place was in any way war-torn. They’d traveled miles through the rocky barren desert and hadn’t passed another vehicle. Out his dirty window he’d occasionally see a man or two traveling who-knows-where with a mule or a camel in tow. Other than that, there was nothing but scrubby bushes and dusty mountains extending in all directions. Even in Tony’s military Hummer, it was a bumpy ride filled with potholes and stones. The army-green metal interior and purely functional doors and windows were nothing like what he was used to back in the States, where his ride was fully loaded.
Tony adjusted his cuff links and twirled the ice in his glass. He’d miraculously managed to keep his custom-tailored suit spotless in spite of the filth of this place. The three young, heavily-armed soldiers who were escorting him had not said a word since they hit this poor excuse for a road. The officer sitting next to him looked over at Tony and then looked quickly away. Tony, bored, hot, and nervous that his clean suit would not stay that way much longer, decided to have some fun.
“I feel like you’re driving me to a court martial. This is crazy. What did I do? What? We’re not allowed to talk?” Tony asked.
“We can talk, sir,” The soldier said.
“Oh, so then it’s personal?” Tony said sarcastically.
“No, you intimidate them,” the driver responded.
Tony was taken aback by the driver’s voice. “You’re a woman! I honestly…I couldn’t have called that. I mean, I’d apologize, but isn’t that what we’re going for here? I mean, I thought of you as a soldier first.”
“I’m an airman,” she responded.
“Well, you actually…You have excellent bone structure there. I’m kind of, I’m actually having a hard time not looking at you now,” Tony flirted. “Is that weird?”
The officers, including the driver, giggled.
“Ah, come on, it’s okay. Laugh!” Tony said, smiling. “Anything else?”
The quiet soldier shifted uncomfortably.
“Um, is it cool if I take a picture with you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Tony replied. “It’s very cool.”
The soldier shyly pulled out his camera and handed it to the officer in the driver’s seat. He smiled and leaned in toward Tony, who flashed his camera-ready smile. The officer in the front seat fumbled with the camera, trying to figure out which button to press. The quiet soldier responded, “Come on! Just snap it, don’t change any of the settings…”
At that very moment, just as the soldier was clicking the snapshot, the truck at the head of the convoy—the truck directly in front of Tony’s Hummer—exploded into a fiery ball of white-hot flame.
The soldiers started to shout, and Tony, clearly shaken, asked what was happening.
“Just stay down!” the soldier sitting next to him shouted. Then he, the driver, and the third escort jumped from the vehicle and opened fire to protect Tony.
Tony squatted down under the backseat of the vehicle. So much for the clean suit. Rapid gunfire sounded outside, and he could tell that his escorts were fighting a losing battle. Tony looked up just as a barrage of bullets riddled the armored doors with holes. Tony heard the windshield shatter and felt glass falling all around him. He looked up and saw soldiers falling in front and behind his vehicle. He knew he wouldn’t make it out alive if he stayed in the truck, so he threw open the door and jumped out.
Bullets, shrapnel, and fire rained down around him, and he lunged into the air dodging them, taking shelter behind a large rock. Sounds of warfare popped and echoed all around him as he grabbed for his cell phone. He frantically started to key in a phone number, trying to call someone, anyone—but before he could finish dialing a wailing rocket soared overhead, and landed just a few feet away from Tony. His eyes widened as he noticed the stenciling on the side of the beeping time bomb, which read: STARK INDUSTRIES.
A fraction of a second later, Tony was enveloped in white flame, blown off the ground, and thrown harder than he thought possible a hundred meters from the blast site. Tony was barely conscious. He struggled to tear open his shirt, and realized that his Stark Industries Kevlar vest had been compromised. He was losing blood quickly and finding it impossible to keep consciousness. Finally, his head hit the ground and then everything faded to white.