Trevor had never imagined his acting career would continue, let alone in the same role...
Kidnapped from prison by Jackson Norriss, who had posed as an ABC reporter, he now sat in a prisoner transport vehicle filled with armed militants.
To be honest, this sly third-rate actor had no desire to leave his cell or regain freedom this way. He knew full well that cooperating with these dangerous individuals came with enormous risks. At any moment, the Avengers might swoop in and wipe them all out.
Last time, he had been lucky enough to escape being implicated in Killian's schemes. But lightning rarely struck the same place twice.
Yet now, he had no choice. Trevor wasn't the type to stand defiant with a gun to his head, so he obediently climbed into the transport van, a black hood pulled over his face.
As for the prison that was attacked? It was in complete chaos. Dozens of guards lay in pools of blood, while hardened inmates took advantage of the situation. They overpowered the remaining officers, seized the keys, and released more prisoners.
A full-scale riot was inevitable...
The engine rumbled to life, tires grinding against the pavement. No one spoke during the tense, silent drive. After about twenty minutes, Trevor was shoved out of the vehicle and transferred to another car.
This leg of the journey lasted half an hour before the sounds of bustling chatter (much of it in Mandarin) filtered in.
"Get out. And behave." Jackson yanked off the hood and hissed the warning.
Trembling, Trevor, now changed out of his prison jumpsuit, stepped out of the car. Above him hung rows of red lanterns, flanked by Chinese restaurants and storefronts.
They were in Chinatown...
Located in Lower Manhattan, this was a predominantly Chinese immigrant community. Its origins traced back to California's Chinese Exclusion Act, which had forced persecuted Chinese laborers to migrate east. Over time, as the population grew, it became the Chinatown of today.
Nearly all residents here were of Chinese descent, primarily from Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Fuzhou... so the dominant dialects were Cantonese and Fuzhounese.
A third of the storefronts were restaurants, while the streets were lined with stalls piled high with fruits, herbs, and seafood. Beautiful Chinese signage adorned the buildings.
During festivals, Chinatown buzzed with activity, drawing not only overseas Chinese, but also foreigners fascinated by Eastern culture...
With a gun pressed to his back, Trevor obediently walked down the street and entered an antique-style teahouse. Unlike the busy restaurants outside, this place was quiet, mostly frequented by elderly patrons sipping tea and listening to traditional music. Few foreigners ever visited.
The owner, dressed in a traditional changshan, greeted them warmly and led Jackson and Trevor upstairs.
As he moved, the black Ten Rings tattoo on his forearm became briefly visible...
...
In the private room on the second floor, a figure stood by the window, his back turned...
When he turned around, Trevor was face-to-face with a man who looked exactly like him.
The same hooked nose, deep-set eyes, and thick beard. But unlike Trevor, this man radiated an aura of imperial authority. His expression was cold and commanding, like a lion daring anyone to challenge him.
The most striking difference? This man was younger. He appeared to be in his prime at thirty or forty. He was also tall and powerfully built.
Just standing there, he exuded overwhelming pressure, like an unshakable mountain...
"Honorable Mandarin," Jackson said with fanatical reverence, bowing deeply, "I've brought the impostor who stole your name."
"Hmph... Killian did choose a decent stand-in." The Mandarin strode forward, his sharp gaze studying Trevor, "Though I prefer his performance in the videos. That was more… me."
Trevor's legs shook. He'd studied some Mandarin under Killian's orders, so he understood most of the conversation.
"Don't be afraid. Be serious... yes, just like that." The Mandarin's voice was razor-sharp, "Too much fear disgusts me."
Clad in intricate black robes that evoked an emperor's regalia, he inspected Trevor with a gaze that forced the actor to lower his eyes. A glint of light caught Trevor's attention... ten rings, each embedded with rare gems, their surfaces pulsing with latent power.
"The Ten Rings need a puppet. So you will return to the stage." The true Mandarin's tone brooked no argument.
He was the founder of the Ten Rings, having established the organization centuries ago.
Originally rooted in Asia, it had expanded into Vietnam, Japan, and Korea, rivaling even the Hand in influence. Its tendrils stretched across the entire Asia-Pacific, weaving a vast, secretive network.
In every conflict-ridden region; the Middle East, Afghanistan (where they'd backed the warlord who kidnapped Tony Stark), the Ten Rings lurked, supplying money and weapons to proxies, expanding their reach.
"I hear you love acting. That you're quite… talented." The Mandarin's expression darkened as if recalling ancient history, "I want you to understand this role more deeply."
Trevor listened silently, not daring to interrupt.
This man, the true master of the Ten Rings, was said to have lived for over a thousand years. Born in ancient China, he was allegedly a descendant of Genghis Khan, inheritor of the Golden Bloodline.
From childhood, he'd displayed extraordinary brilliance. In an era of warlords and chaos, he amassed unimaginable wealth through ruthless business tactics. At the peak of his power, he abandoned it all, retreating to mountains and temples in search of the elixir of immortality.
He scoured Taoist scriptures, Buddhist texts, and esoteric manuals, but found no answers. It was an age of spiritual decay, where the path to enlightenment had been lost.
Until the Ten Rings came...
In a forgotten valley, he discovered the ruins of an extraterrestrial civilization... and within them, ten rings imbued with supernatural power. Overjoyed, he devoted himself to mastering them.
From then on, the Mandarin vanished, secluding himself deep in the mountains. Only during moments of global upheaval did he emerge.
The Ten Rings organization was one such creation...
"I found the key to immortality. Those extraterrestrial beings may hold further secrets." The Mandarin's voice was glacial, sending chills down Trevor's spine, "Killian sought to control this nation, foolishly thinking I cared for power. What I pursue is the essence of life itself. The rings opened the door to the Great Dao. Yet I remain unsatisfied. I will possess this entire world–" The Mandarin's words cut off abruptly.
His hand shot out, seizing Trevor by the throat. With a flick of his finger, he sliced open the actor's skin and plucked out a grain-sized tracking device...