บท 40: The Comic’s Prophecy Fulfilled
**Chapter 40: **
I slammed my fist on the table, staring down at the comic in disbelief. "You're joking, right? This... this is absurd!"
Obadiah had been trying to get through to the satellite phone for hours. I could feel his frustration from across the world. But all I could focus on was the conversation Rhodes and I were having on this plane. My stomach churned as I glanced back at the comic. The same comic I dismissed earlier, yet here I was, living through every twisted page. The same pages I thought were just the overactive imagination of some comic artist.
**"How in the hell did you find me?"** I asked, shoving a plate of food into my mouth. I barely tasted it. The water I drank to help me swallow didn't ease the tight knot in my chest.
Rhodey, sitting across from me, looked as though he had no idea how to explain this to me. His face tightened as he reached into his jacket, pulling something out and tossing it onto the tray table.
"You should take a look at this," he said, the weight in his voice unsettling.
I grabbed the comic. The title stared back at me, bold letters arranged in a way that felt unnervingly familiar: **Iron Man**.
My jaw tightened. "No way. It can't be..."
I remembered the name. The person on the phone that day. They mentioned it. And here it was again, staring at me like a ghost from a past I hadn't yet escaped. I flipped through the pages, my hands moving on autopilot as my mind reeled.
"Jason Walker..." I muttered under my breath. The name was scrawled in small print, and a part of me wished I didn't understand what it meant.
Rhode stayed silent, watching as I turned page after page. It was all here. The mecha. The wires. The chest piece. Hell, even *Tony Stark* was drawn out like he was part of some damn storyboard. It was as if this guy had been sitting right there in the cave, jotting down every detail of my life like it was just another superhero origin story.
"This... This isn't possible," I whispered to myself, though I knew Rhode heard me. I traced my finger along the lines of the mechanical suit, almost identical to the one I imagined while trapped in that cave.
"You're saying this guy, Jason Walker, came up with this? *Before* it all happened?" I asked, my voice shaking as the ridiculousness of it all weighed heavy on my shoulders.
"That's exactly what I'm saying, Tony," Rhodey said, still staring at me with a look that was half sympathy and half disbelief.
I kept flipping through the comic, page by page, my breath growing more ragged. Everything was there. The conversation with Ethan, the makeshift chest battery, the escape from that nightmare of a place. Every detail felt like it had been plucked straight from my memory. And then I got to the last page.
I stared down at it, my blood running cold. There I was, half-kneeling in the desert, close to death, and next to the image were the latitude and longitude coordinates of my exact location.
I pushed the comic towards Rhodey. "You didn't really use this, did you?" My voice was a mixture of disbelief and desperation. I didn't want to believe this. I couldn't.
Rhodey nodded, his expression grim. "We did. The military thought it was a long shot, but... the coordinates in the comic led us right to you."
I shook my head violently, standing up so fast the chair behind me almost toppled over. "This is insane! You're telling me a damn comic book predicted where I was going to be? That's not just absurd, it's... it's impossible!" I yelled, feeling a burning frustration build up inside me. "I pay millions in taxes every year, I've built weapons that you guys use, and you're telling me you found me because of some *comic book*?"
Rhodey rubbed his temple, his voice calm but firm. "I get it, Tony. I know how it sounds. Believe me, I didn't want to believe it either. But we had no other leads. You were missing, man. And then General Ross suggested using the comic... and it worked. You're standing here because of that."
I couldn't process what he was saying. The pressure, the fear, the confusion—it all came crashing down at once. My mind raced through every possible explanation. Was someone watching me the whole time? Was this Jason Walker part of that terrorist group? No, if that were the case, why would he help me escape? Why would he go through all this trouble just to write it all down in a comic?
I could feel the sweat on my brow, the tremor in my hands. My head spun as I tried to make sense of it all.
Rhodey sighed, leaning forward in his seat. "Look, man. I don't have all the answers. But you're alive. You're back. Let's focus on that for now."
I ran a hand through my hair, still pacing. "Yeah, maybe. But this... this can't just be coincidence." I glared down at the comic, anger and confusion swirling inside me. "There's something bigger going on here, and I'm going to find out what."
The cabin was silent for a long moment. The hum of the plane engines was the only sound between us as I stared out the window into the vast desert below.
There was no denying it. This wasn't just some fluke. Something—or someone—was pulling the strings behind all of this.
And I wasn't about to let it go unanswered.
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