Chapter 177: Relics of War, Shadows of Ultron
Somewhere in the deserts of the Middle East.
BOOM!
A Jericho missile exploded in a shower of cluster munitions, striking a mountain peak with deadly precision. The resulting blast sent shockwaves across the dunes, kicking up sand and debris, forcing onlookers to shield their eyes and steady their footing.
A scar-faced man stood tall amidst the blast winds, a cigar clenched between his lips. He squinted at the explosion's aftermath. The ember on his cigar glowed even brighter in the gusting air.
"The Jericho missile," a man in military fatigues explained proudly, "the widow of Stark Industries' weapons division. Ever since Stark Industries announced its complete shutdown of weapon manufacturing, the Jericho missile became a collector's item. Only two places still have stock: the U.S. military's vaults… and us."
The man in fatigues was no ordinary arms dealer. He belonged to one of the most infamous weapons-smuggling organizations in the world—a name whispered in black markets since the '90s. Today, he was pitching one of their most prized relics.
The scar-faced man he was selling to? The new warlord of this region. Two years ago, when Gene had obliterated the real Mandarin in a single strike, the previously united factions under the Mandarin fractured into chaos. In that power vacuum, the scar-faced warlord rose—by doing one thing better than the rest: killing.
"You've seen what this missile can do," the dealer smirked. "So, what do you think? Worth your coin, right?"
The scar-faced man took a long puff of his cigar. "Sure, we're interested. But let's not pretend—these are years-old products. Even with the Stark Industries label, that doesn't change the fact they're outdated."
He paused, narrowing his eyes. "And let's be honest—Stark's brand doesn't shine like it used to. Back in the day, even a regular revolver with a Stark logo could cause a bidding war. But now?"