"Without me around, Stark Industries' stock price was bound to crash," Tony said confidently.
He didn't seem bothered at all that it was technically his own company losing value. Tony knew his reputation well enough. As long as he reappeared alive, the market would recover eventually.
Ethan nodded slightly. "You're not wrong. As of yesterday, Stark Industries stock had dropped about forty-five percent."
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"And you?" he asked casually. "How much did you make? One million? Maybe two?"
He clearly didn't expect Ethan to have earned much. After all, most federal agents didn't exactly have the resources to play aggressively in the stock market.
Ethan answered calmly.
"I invested five hundred million dollars," he said. "With ten times financial leverage."
He didn't bother stating the final profit directly. The two numbers alone were enough.
Tony's expression froze.
For several seconds he didn't say anything.
Eventually he blinked slowly and let out a low whistle.
"Well… looks like you made quite a bit," Tony said. Then he frowned slightly. "But are FBI salaries really that high now? Since when can agents casually pull out five hundred million dollars?"
"Borrowed," Ethan replied simply.
Tony laughed.
"You're one lucky guy," he said. "If you hadn't just rescued me, I'd honestly suspect you were the one who kidnapped me in the first place."
He stretched his arms lazily.
"But now that I'm back, you should close your short position as soon as possible. Then buy the stock and ride it back up. You'll make another fortune."
Tony never mentioned the bodyguard offer again. Even though he was extremely wealthy, hiring someone with a net worth of several billion dollars as a personal bodyguard was a little absurd.
Ethan only smiled and didn't respond.
He would definitely buy Stark Industries stock later.
Just not yet.
While waiting for rescue, Tony refused to sit around doing nothing.
He walked through the camp slowly, staring at the weapons crates scattered across the area. Many of them were stamped with the Stark Industries logo.
His expression darkened.
Using spare materials, Tony quickly assembled a crude detonator. A few minutes later, the entire camp exploded in a massive fireball as the weapons stockpile detonated.
Flames and smoke rose high into the sky.
Two hours passed.
Still no rescue team arrived.
At this point Ethan was fairly certain what had happened. S.H.I.E.L.D. clearly didn't want to show themselves directly, so they had probably passed the information to the United States military instead.
By now the Afghan sun had climbed even higher.
It was around one or two in the afternoon, and the desert heat had become unbearable. The sand itself probably reached temperatures close to sixty degrees Celsius, while the air hovered around forty.
Tony wiped sweat from his forehead.
"Damn," he complained. "If I knew the rescue was going to take this long, I wouldn't have blown up the camp."
Ethan smacked his lips slightly.
Standing under the blazing sun had made him a little irritable. The dry air also made his throat feel parched.
With a thought, he opened his golden storage space.
A large glass of ice-cold cola appeared in his hand.
Although the storage space was only eight cubic meters, it was still plenty for basic supplies. Ethan kept various items there, including weapons, ammunition, food, and water.
Since time didn't pass inside the storage space, the cola remained perfectly chilled.
"Glug, glug, glug."
Ethan took several long drinks.
The icy liquid immediately cooled his body, and the refreshing sweetness washed away the irritation from the heat.
Tony and the doctor stared at him in shock.
Both of them swallowed reflexively.
"Where the hell did you get that?" Tony asked urgently.
Instead of answering, Ethan shook the glass lightly so the ice cubes clinked.
"Want one?" he asked casually.
"Obviously!"
"Five million dollars per cup."
Ethan smiled.
"Deal," Tony said instantly. "Give me two."
The billionaire didn't hesitate for even half a second. Seeing how easily Tony agreed, Ethan suddenly wondered if he had priced it too low.
Two glasses of ice-cold cola appeared in the air.
Tony grabbed them eagerly, handed one to the doctor, and then drank his own in huge gulps.
"I never imagined cola could taste this good," Tony said after finishing half the glass. "Is this part of your superpower too? Some kind of pocket warehouse?"
He looked hopeful.
"Got anything to eat?"
"Burgers," Ethan replied calmly. "Eight million dollars each."
He deliberately chose a price that still sounded outrageous but not high enough to scare Tony away.
Tony didn't even blink.
"Start with four."
Four burgers appeared instantly.
Tony tossed two to the doctor and devoured the other two himself with impressive speed. After finishing those, he ordered two more along with an ice cream.
Meanwhile, Ethan quietly calculated the total.
Six burgers at eight million dollars each.
That was forty-eight million.
Three cups of cola at five million each.
Another fifteen million.
Total profit: sixty-three million dollars.
Ethan couldn't help smiling.
Selling food in the desert was apparently more profitable than shorting Stark Industries stock.
Not long after they finished eating, the rescue team finally arrived.
Two U.S. military helicopters descended from the sky.
A tall Black officer jumped out of one of them. The moment Tony saw him, he immediately walked forward and pulled the man into a tight hug.
"Rhodey! Long time no see!"
"Yeah," Colonel James Rhodes replied with relief. "Next time you travel, ride in the same car as me. No more separate convoys."
Tony groaned dramatically.
"Don't ever put me in one of those 'happy jeeps' again," he said. "I hate those things now."
After releasing Tony, Rhodey looked at Ethan and the doctor standing nearby.
"And you two are…?"
Before Ethan could answer, Tony spoke first.
"This is Ethan Blake," Tony said. "Agent in charge of the FBI's New York branch. He's the one who rescued me. And this is Ethan—the man who kept me alive for the past two months."
Rhodey nodded respectfully.
"Thank you for saving Tony," he said while shaking their hands. "Let's get out of here."
Although Rhodey found it a little strange that the FBI had conducted the rescue, he was a professional soldier. He knew better than to ask unnecessary questions.
Later.
Tony Stark stood on a stage in front of countless reporters.
Ethan watched the broadcast with a satisfied smile.
Tony was announcing the closure of Stark Industries' entire weapons manufacturing division.
The stock market was going to explode again tomorrow.
Behind him, a familiar voice spoke.
"Mr. Ethan Blake."
Ethan turned.
"Phil Coulson," he said calmly. "You're here too."
Coulson nodded politely.
"The Director asked me to gather information about what happened," he explained. "But Mr. Stark seems a little busy at the moment."
Ethan glanced toward the reporters surrounding Tony.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm busy too."
He paused briefly.
"Oh, and tell your boss something for me," Ethan added casually. "Thirty kilograms of Vibranium. Remind him to send it soon."
His smile widened slightly.
"I'd hate to have to collect the debt personally."
Before Coulson could respond, Ethan took a step forward.
In the next instant he vanished.
Coulson stared at the empty space where he had stood.
"That ability really is convenient," Coulson murmured quietly.
....
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