Chapter 89

Tony was panicking right now.

He saw a beautiful woman earlier, and he could've sworn he'd never seen a women of her level before. He was stunned for a moment, but he didn't expect that this woman was more than just a beauty—she was powerful enough to take out terrorists with a single punch.

Now, he was terrified.

Tony Stark and his doctor, Yinsen, walked out of the cave, trembling. Outside, the sounds of gunfire and explosions were fading.

As they cautiously made their way around the corner, both clutching makeshift weapons, they finally reached the mouth of the cave. Tony crouched down, leaning against the wall as he peeked outside. The blinding sunlight poured in, making him squint and instinctively raise his hands to shield his eyes.

It took a moment for his vision to adjust, and when it did, he opened his eyes fully.

What he saw made him lean back in shock, his eyes wide with disbelief.

This was the most unforgettable scene Tony had ever witnessed. It was a bloody nightmare. The area outside the cave was basin-shaped, surrounded by yellow sand and encircled by rock walls. From high above, several 257 machine guns had been positioned, their muzzles now silent.

There was only one entrance from the outside.

In this confined space, the ground was littered with corpses, blood pooling beneath them. Weapons, ammunition boxes, and tents had been set ablaze, the flames roaring fiercely.

Among the bodies stood that graceful, beautiful woman, holding a bald man dressed in the terrorists' signature camouflage uniform in her slender hands. His bald head was smeared with blood, and his body hung limply in her grip.

Tony instantly recognized him—the leader of the group that had demanded he build the Jericho missiles.

The man's breath was shallow, his head drooped, and he muttered something unintelligible, perhaps a curse.

The woman, now standing amidst the carnage, seemed less like a person and more like a terrifying figure of death to Tony. The breeze gently rustled her burgundy curls.

She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a lazy sort of menace: "I can feel the presence of innocent souls on you. You deserve to die."

And with that, she tossed him aside.

The bald leader flew like a cannonball, crashing into the distant rock wall, his entire body embedding into it. His limbs twisted grotesquely, leaving a human-shaped indent, while blood flowed steadily. The man twitched once before falling completely silent.

Tony and Yinsen gulped at the sight, their faces filled with nervous tension.

They were absolutely terrified.

Is this woman a monster in human skin?

The woman turned slightly, casting a perfect profile toward the two stunned men. Her tone puzzled, she asked, "You seem to be thinking something bad?"

"No, no, not at all!"

Both men immediately stood upright as if jolted by electricity, frantically waving their hands.

"Good," she replied. With a blink of her seductive eyes, Natasha continued walking, her slender legs moving gracefully. As she passed several missile launchers loaded with Jericho missiles, she gave them a casual kick, sending them crashing together.

She grabbed a timer bomb from an ammunition box, set the timer, and tossed it onto the missile launcher. Seeing this, Tony and Yinsen quickened their pace, following closely behind.

As they exited the narrow basin, a vast yellow desert stretched before them. Parked on the sand was a Humvee, and further ahead, a sleek black fighter plane with its door open, metal stairs extending down. Natasha walked straight up into the plane.

Tony and Yinsen exchanged grimaces. If given the choice, both would have preferred the Humvee over the plane.

However, it was obvious they had no choice, and both feared ending up like the terrorist leader if they disobeyed.

The two men cautiously walked down the stairs into the cabin. To Tony's surprise, the interior was nothing like other fighter jets or transport planes. This plane felt more like a small private jet. There were no visible weapons, and the decor was luxurious and warm. Hand-painted animal prints adorned the walls.

Natasha sat comfortably in a lounge seat, leaning back lazily, her legs crossed, exuding both elegance and ease. When she saw the two men timidly walking in, she tapped her chin, gesturing for them to sit.

Obediently, they sat down in the seats opposite her.

From the pilot's seat behind them, Yelena, wearing headphones, turned her head to look at Tony and immediately exclaimed, "Wow! Is that the famous Tony Stark? Looks more like a homeless person now."

With his usual temper, Tony instinctively wanted to fire back with a witty retort, but one glance at Natasha made him swallow his words. So frustrating—when had he ever been this restrained?

He totally forgot he was held by a terrorist group until a few minutes ago.

Natasha, shaking her head, gently tapped Yelena's head and scolded her, "If you were kidnapped for a few months, you'd look like a homeless girl too."

"Cut it out~~" Yelena pouted, rubbing the spot where she'd been tapped, though secretly enjoying the sisterly affection.

But she couldn't express her personality.

"Alright, it's time for us to go."

Whoosh!

Yelena piloted the plane, and it started smoothly. The support frame and stairs automatically retracted, and the aircraft lifted off vertically. Yelena's flying skills were impressive—there was barely any turbulence during takeoff.

Boom!

An explosion erupted outside the plane, and a massive mushroom cloud engulfed the cave. The entire basin was flattened, and every trace of their presence was consumed by the explosion's flames.

Tony felt a sense of relief and turned his attention to the plane. As one of the most brilliant scientists of the century, he quickly observed that the aircraft was equipped with cutting-edge technology. Whoever had built this plane was highly skilled.

Of course, Tony also spotted a few flaws. Just as he was pondering the plane's design, two bottles of chilled juice appeared in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He looked up and saw Natasha holding the juice, which she had taken from a small refrigerator next to her seat. She handed one bottle to Tony and another to Yinsen.

After months in the sweltering Middle Eastern heat, where the terrorists barely provided them with enough food or care, the sight of a cold drink made their eyes light up. Tony and Yinsen gratefully accepted the juice, not forgetting to say their thanks.