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Tony Stark was missing.
Neither dead nor alive—just… gone.
Vanishing without a trace in Afghanistan, his whereabouts had remained an unsolved mystery for days, and the implications were massive. A disappearance of this scale wasn't something that could be brushed aside, not by the U.S. government, not by the intelligence community, and certainly not by S.H.I.E.L.D.
And yet, despite the combined efforts of the world's top agencies, military divisions, and covert operatives, the search had turned up nothing.
Until now.
Black Widow's voice crackled through the encrypted line, delivering a message that caught even Nick Fury, the ever-unshakable director of S.H.I.E.L.D., off guard.
"Director, we have Stark's exact location." For a brief moment, Fury was silent. Processing what he has just heard.
"How reliable is the source?" he finally asked, his voice sharp, but measured. "Where did this intel come from?"
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the desk, his one eye narrowing.
"Shopkeeper Rosh," Black Widow responded without hesitation. "He gave us Stark's coordinates but didn't disclose how he obtained them. That said, based on everything we know about him, I trust the intel."
Fury exhaled slowly. "If it came from the Shopkeeper, then it's solid. We move on it." There was no hesitation in his voice.
He didn't need to ask how a single man had accomplished what the entire U.S. intelligence network had failed to do. It was just another reminder that the Shopkeeper wasn't bound by conventional rules.
Fury had long since accepted that Rosh operated on a level far beyond their understanding. The man had resources, knowledge, and power that defied logic. If he provided specific coordinates, then that was exactly where Stark was.
The fact that the Shopkeeper knew Stark's exact location, when every satellite, agent, and tactical unit had come up short, did not surprise Fury in the slightest.
It was just another day dealing with a man who never played by the rules.
However, before Fury could issue deployment orders, Black Widow spoke up again.
"Sir… there's a complication." Fury resisted the urge to rub his temples.
"Of course there is," he muttered. "Go on." And that's when the headache truly began.
Black Widow explained the situation that Pepper Potts had decided to take matters into her own hands.
Frustrated by the lack of progress, she had personally hired a group of Devil Fruit users to mount a private rescue operation for Stark. Fury frowned when he heard about the situation. Pepper Potts wasn't just Stark's business partner. She wasn't some clueless executive playing hero. She was intelligent, resourceful, and relentless; now, she was taking direct action.
And that complicated everything.
A group of unregistered, superpowered individuals storming into a terrorist stronghold?
That was an international disaster waiting to happen.
The political ramifications alone made Fury want to slam his head against the desk. If things went sideways, it wouldn't just be S.H.I.E.L.D. cleaning up the mess; this could spark a global crisis.
But after only a moment of thought, Fury made his decision. They wouldn't stop the Devil Fruit users.
In fact, S.H.I.E.L.D. would move in alongside them.
Because this? This was an opportunity.
Ever since Fury learned that even S.H.I.E.L.D. was limited to only three Devil Fruit purchases, he had been keeping close tabs on those who had managed to acquire these incredibly powerful abilities.
Now, with multiple Devil Fruit users actively working together on a mission, he had the perfect chance to study them.
Fury needed to know how strong they were? How did they fight? What were their limits? And most importantly, could they be controlled?
Fury wasn't naive. He knew better than to leave unchecked superpowered individuals running around. He wanted them under his command.
But if that wasn't possible…Then, he needed to know how to neutralize them.
"Understood, sir." Black Widow didn't need Fury to spell it out for her; she understood his intent immediately. With a simple confirmation, she ended the encrypted communication and wasted no time in reaching out to Pepper Potts again. Making it crystal clear that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be working with them on this operation.
Pepper didn't put up much resistance. As long as S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't interfere or try to take over their operation, she had no issue with their involvement.
In fact, if she was being honest with herself, this was actually a good thing. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources would streamline everything.
Sure, Pepper had already arranged for a private jet to take them to Afghanistan, but that plan had its own complications.
Flying into a foreign country—especially one as politically volatile as Afghanistan—wasn't as simple as taking off and landing. There were bureaucratic hurdles, aviation clearance issues, diplomatic red tape, and security risks. In some cases, booking a commercial flight would actually be faster than trying to cut through all the legal restrictions of private air travel.
And time? Time was a luxury they didn't have.
Then there was the mission itself. This wasn't just about getting there; this was a high-risk extraction operation against an armed terrorist faction. And that was a whole different beast.
Locating Stark was one thing. Getting him out alive was another. They needed real-time intel to ensure Stark's position was still accurate. They needed a strategy, backup plans, and emergency contingencies. And most importantly? They needed an exit strategy.
This wasn't something amateurs could pull off.
Pepper wasn't naive. She had hired Devil Fruit users because she understood that raw power would be a key factor in their success. But even with their abilities, charging into a hostile environment without proper planning was reckless.
S.H.I.E.L.D., however, changed the equation. The mission's success rate had skyrocketed with their tactical teams, surveillance drones, high-speed transport, and intelligence network.
Now? Now, they had speed, precision, and coordination.
Pepper relayed the update to her team—Deadpool, Kingpin, and Hope without further delay.
Their reactions were mixed.
Deadpool, predictably, had some colorful opinions about working with a government agency. Ever the strategist, Kingpin saw both the advantages and potential dangers of aligning with S.H.I.E.L.D. Hope, on the other hand, had little reason to trust S.H.I.E.L.D., but she wasn't about to let her personal feelings get in the way of rescuing Tony Stark.
In the end, despite their reservations, they all agreed.
The plan was now officially in motion.
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Afghanistan.
Buried within the endless expanse of Afghanistan's desert, hidden inside a dimly lit, isolated cave—
*Click!*
A soft yet distinct sound echoed through the cavern as Tony Stark pressed a switch. On the crude, makeshift workbench in front of him, a small device flickered to life, casting an otherworldly blue glow that bathed the cave walls in shimmering light.
For a moment, Tony simply stared at it, mesmerized.
It was more than just a light—it was hope.
A subtle exhale left his lips. Outwardly, he remained composed, but deep inside, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
'Finally.' This tiny, glowing reactor was the key to his survival. The one and only lifeline in his desperate escape plan.
The cave's resources were scarce, barely enough for a single attempt. If this didn't work? That was it.
No second chances. No backup plans. He would never leave this hellhole alive.
But Tony Stark wasn't just any man—he was a genius. And as always, he had gotten it right on the first try.
"That doesn't look like a Jericho missile," a voice cut through the stillness.
Tony turned his head slightly, unsurprised to see Yinsen, his fellow prisoner, standing nearby. The older man's sharp eyes flickered between Tony and the glowing device, curiosity laced with suspicion.
"This," Tony said, gesturing toward the device, "is a miniature Arc Reactor."
Tony didn't hesitate. There was no point in lying. He would need Yinsen's help soon enough.
Yinsen's brows furrowed. "Arc Reactor?"
Tony gave a slight nod. "There's a much larger one back home. It powers my entire factory." His voice was calm, but beneath it lay determination. "This one is… well, let's just say it's going to keep shrapnel from piercing my heart."
Yinsen stepped closer, studying the device with newfound understanding. "How much power does it generate?" he asked, his tone cautious.
Tony barely glanced at him as he responded, his focus still locked onto the reactor. "If my calculations are correct, three gigajoules per second."
Yinsen's eyes widened in astonishment. "Three gigajoules?! That's enough to keep you alive fifty times over!"
Tony smirked. "Yeah," he admitted. "But it might only power something big for about fifteen minutes."
His words carried weight. A deliberate, unspoken message. And Yinsen understood immediately.
Because at this point, Tony Stark wasn't just thinking about survival. He was thinking about escape.
The designs for his prototype armor—the Mark I—were already forming in his mind. He would build it piece by piece, right under their captors' noses. And when the time came?
He would turn this cave into a battlefield. This was an all-or-nothing gamble.
What Tony Stark didn't realize, however, was that far above the desert, a Quinjet had already taken flight.
Moving at breakneck speed, slicing through the clouds with deadly precision. Help was already on the way.
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Next Chapter: The Devil Fruit Task Force Strikes!
Next Next Chapter: A Stunned Tony Stark
Next Next Next Chapter: The Devastating Combat Power of the Devil Fruit Task Force!
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