Tony Stark stared at Drex Valen.
"For the record, turning you into a Hulk was the only practical way to save your life."
Drex delivered the statement with complete seriousness.
Tony blinked.
"A Hulk?"
He had absolutely no idea what that meant.
Until recently, he'd been a billionaire playboy who spent more time with models and missile contracts than classified government projects. The events of the past few weeks had changed him, but not enough to suddenly grant him access to every national secret.
"Hulk," Drex explained, "is what you are now. The latest evolution of the Super Soldier program."
The moment he finished speaking, a holographic screen materialized in front of Tony.
The footage began playing.
Abomination.
Juggernaut-Hulk.
The destruction of the Ten Rings base.
Tony watched in stunned silence as armored vehicles were ripped apart like cardboard and entire formations of armed fighters were wiped out by two unstoppable monsters.
His mouth slowly fell open.
"That's a Hulk?"
He had grown up hearing stories about Captain America's Super Soldier Serum.
What he was seeing now looked less like military science and more like a natural disaster.
Bullets were meaningless.
Explosives were meaningless.
Even armored vehicles might as well have been made of paper.
And now he was one of them.
"Relax," Drex said. "You can change back."
Then he glanced toward the entrance.
"Speaking of which, your ride is here."
Drex had never intended to recruit Tony into the Bureau.
One more Hulk wasn't going to change much.
One less Hulk wasn't going to hurt either.
Tony was free to do whatever he wanted.
Agent Phil Coulson arrived shortly afterward.
Wearing his usual polite smile, he escorted Tony away.
Tony, meanwhile, remained thoroughly confused.
He had never heard of SHIELD before.
As far as he was concerned, some random government agent had appeared and was now taking him somewhere.
Outside, however, the political fallout was becoming explosive.
The problem wasn't just Tony's kidnapping.
It was where the Ten Rings had gotten their weapons.
Many of those weapons had reached Afghanistan through channels connected to the CIA.
Originally, the Agency had viewed the Ten Rings as a useful counterweight against both the Taliban and various Eastern interests in the region.
Unfortunately, the Ten Rings had repaid that support by kidnapping Tony Stark.
The result was a disaster.
Obadiah Stane alone could never have moved large quantities of Stark Industries weaponry into Afghanistan.
The logistics network required enormous influence, political protection, and international coordination.
The CIA had been one of the key links in that chain.
Now the Agency was paying the price.
At that very moment, senior CIA officials were being chewed out by Pentagon leadership.
Members of Congress had found a rare opportunity to publicly attack the Agency.
Some were already discussing budget cuts.
The CIA was having a terrible week.
"The Mandarin never truly controlled all of his people."
Intelligence reports quickly uncovered the deeper story.
After fleeing to Afghanistan years earlier, the Mandarin had forged alliances with local Pashtun tribes.
The arrangement had benefited everyone involved.
The tribes supplied manpower, recruits, funding, and local support.
The Ten Rings provided elite fighters and protection against Taliban exploitation.
The partnership worked remarkably well.
The Ten Rings established themselves quickly and expanded across the region.
The tribes prospered under their protection.
The downside was equally obvious.
The organization became highly decentralized.
The Mandarin only exercised direct control over a limited number of core bases.
Many tribal leaders operated almost independently, answering his calls when convenient while maintaining their own agendas.
One of those leaders had caused the current crisis.
A man named Raza.
Raza had accepted Obadiah Stane's money.
After capturing Tony Stark, however, he had made a spectacularly foolish decision.
He wanted Tony to build weapons for him.
The idea revealed a complete misunderstanding of modern industry.
His headquarters barely had reliable electricity.
His men were largely illiterate.
Even if Tony Stark had been willing to cooperate, he couldn't magically create a weapons factory inside a cave.
Modern manufacturing required infrastructure.
Power grids.
Industrial equipment.
Skilled workers.
Supply chains.
Management systems.
None of which Raza possessed.
The Mandarin, who had survived from the final years of the Qing Dynasty into the modern era, understood this perfectly.
He placed enormous value on maintaining ties with the CIA.
Without outside support, competing against powerful Eastern organizations would be far more difficult.
The moment he learned what had happened, he ordered Raza executed.
He also instructed subordinate tribal leaders to abandon their bases whenever American forces advanced.
After all, once negotiations resumed, the Americans would likely withdraw and the territory could be reclaimed.
That had been the plan.
Then the Human Supernatural Strategic Defense, Attack, and Logistics Bureau rescued Tony Stark.
Everything became awkward overnight.
Continuing the conflict was expensive.
Backing down was humiliating.
The Mandarin couldn't afford to appear weak in front of ambitious tribal leaders.
The CIA couldn't afford to look weak either.
Publicly, everyone criticized the Agency.
Privately, preparations for war accelerated.
American forces throughout Afghanistan began mobilizing.
If open conflict erupted between the United States and the Ten Rings, neither the Taliban nor other regional groups would even qualify as spectators.
They would simply be irrelevant.
"So we want negotiations."
The CIA's proposal eventually received Pentagon approval.
Nobody truly wanted a large-scale conflict if it could be avoided.
Back in New York, Tony Stark stood in front of a mirror.
He stared at his chest.
No wounds.
No arc reactor.
No battery.
No shrapnel.
Nothing.
The injury that had nearly killed him was completely gone.
He flexed experimentally.
Something felt different.
Stronger.
Tony wandered over to a weight rack and grabbed a barbell.
He lifted it with one hand.
Effortlessly.
His eyes widened.
The weight was well over a hundred pounds.
And this was only his normal state.
His transformed form would be vastly stronger.
Far away, Drex observed everything through his enhanced vision.
He was curious.
Very curious.
Tony Stark stood at a crossroads.
Would he continue pursuing the Iron Man armor he was destined to create?
Or would he abandon that path entirely and become addicted to the power of the Hulk?
Drex genuinely didn't know.
And that uncertainty made the outcome interesting.
After all, this wasn't Earth-616.
A Hulk Tony Stark wasn't impossible.
A few days later, Drex once again visited Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
"Professor."
Professor Xavier smiled warmly.
He seemed to enjoy these visits.
Nearby, Storm prepared tea and coffee for the guests.
Drex had actually been puzzled for some time.
Based on what he knew, the Dark Phoenix should have emerged by now.
Yet nothing unusual had happened.
That was one reason he kept returning.
He was waiting to see when Cyclops would disappear.
Until then, there was no harm in maintaining contact.
"I was wondering something."
Drex settled into his chair.
"Would you be interested in having one of your mutants join the Human Supernatural Strategic Defense, Attack, and Logistics Bureau?"
Storm immediately became more alert.
Drex might be handsome.
That didn't mean she trusted him.
If anything, experience suggested handsome men were often the most dangerous.
And Drex wasn't merely attractive.
He was powerful.
Influential.
The former Mutant Affairs Bureau had already been folded into his organization, costing Beast his position as director.
The Bureau had treated mutants fairly so far.
That didn't mean caution should be abandoned.
Professor Xavier, however, looked delighted.
"If such an opportunity exists," he said, "that would be wonderful."