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Chapter 20 Taking Control Of Jihadist Organizations
🕑 Added 2025-08-27 11:23:40 +0000 UTCIn an unknown cave in Afghanistan, the bald leader of a jihadist organization was on the phone with Obadiah Stane, looking pleased. This cooperation with the second-largest shareholder of Stark Industries had made the organization a lot of money.
Thinking about Tony Stark, the genius weapons inventor who was about to fall into his hands, the bald leader’s already fierce face twisted with even more ferocity.
“Boss, Tony Stark has returned,” a member of the organization reported cautiously, just after the leader hung up.
“Good. Where is he? Take me to him.”
Joy flickered in the bald leader’s eyes. He was eager to meet the famous genius arms dealer.
“He… he was seriously injured and has been given to Dr. Ethan for treatment,” the member added, fear flickering in his expression.
“Lies! Who allowed Tony Stark to contact outsiders without my permission?” The bald leader’s voice was cold and sharp; as dictator of the organization, he hated being undermined.
“It’s me.”
Allens walked in from outside the cave, his eyes filled with amusement and scrutiny. The bald leader froze.
“How did you get in, Bichi?”
He drew his pistol and aimed at Allens, but Allens didn’t even flinch.
Boom.
A wave of psychokinetic force sent the bald leader flying into the wall. Every part of his body ached, his internal organs writhing under the invisible pressure.
“Uh… don’t kill me, don’t kill me!”
The bald leader’s face twisted with fear and pain. But Allens’ left index finger, now an invisible psychokinetic blade, simply severed the leader’s throat. Blood spurted, and his horrified eyes lost their shine.
Peng.
The heavy corpse fell at Allens’ feet, blood pooling around his white Quantum Suit. In that moment, he looked like a demon.
“Now, this terrorist organization belongs to me,” Allens said. A bald phantom appeared in front of him, mimicking the leader’s voice, tone, and movements.
In the deepest part of the cave, Tony Stark, not yet in his Iron Man armor, slowly awoke. His vision blurred, and the pain in his chest reminded him that he had been attacked. He sat up in horror, looking at the sparse cave surroundings. The simple device attached to his chest left him breathless. Just as he reached to remove it, a voice startled him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Dr. Ethan, wearing a shabby suit, raised his eyes and looked at the famous genius.
“You bastard! What did you do to me?”
Tony Stark glared at him. The large hole in his chest and the attached magnet made maintaining composure impossible.
“Hey, is this how you treat your savior?” Ethan asked, calmly explaining Tony’s current condition.
“So I was kidnapped by a jihadist group?” Tony Stark’s mind raced. He immediately realized their goal: they would force him to create weapons.
Peng.
Not long after Tony woke, the steel door of the cave rattled. Armed terrorists in white robes stormed in. Behind them, a bald head—ferocious and cruel—approached step by step.
“The world’s most dangerous war criminal, the genius Tony Stark, we finally meet,” the illusionary bald leader said, and Tony’s pupils constricted.
“Maybe you think I kidnapped you just to make weapons. You’ll be disappointed,” Allens continued, speaking through the illusion.
Tony Stark’s anger flared. “If you didn’t want me to make weapons, why go through all the trouble to kidnap me?”
“Allens controls the bald illusion, conveying just the right amount of disappointment. Your genius goes beyond conventional weapons. Use your brain, cursed by knowledge, to find a way out.”
“One month. That’s all the time you get. No interruptions. After one month, whether ready or not, you face the trial. In this cave, only one party can leave alive. Fail, and you die.”
The words stunned everyone, terrorists included. To have a leader demand that the captive find a solution himself was audacious.
“Tony Stark, rack your brains. Escape from heavily armed, vicious terrorists in one month. This is your survival trial. Don’t let me down.”
A cold smile spread across the illusion’s face. Even the terrorists flinched.
“In one month, we should have the steel armor and Arc Reactor ready,” Allens thought playfully. He had taken over the organization mainly to acquire the Arc Reactor and Tony’s steel battle suit design.
Tick tock, tick tock.
Allens glanced at his watch. The second hand was three seconds slow—a minor imperfection resulting from his successful theft of the Quantum Suit.
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