NOVEL NEXT Chapter 28: General Ross
If it were just a comic, it wouldn't have attracted much attention. After all, the comic scene wasn't exactly huge. But when things escalate to another level, it draws the attention of the entire country.
Take my *Iron Man* comic, for example. Everyone thought it was just a fun little thing I whipped up, but within half a day, the entire U.S. was buzzing about it.
"Have you heard about the Marvel *Iron Man* comic?"
"Yeah, so what? He just drew Tony Stark. Big deal."
"Seriously? Are you living under a rock? The real story here is that Tony Stark got kidnapped—exactly like it happened in the comic!"
"I saw the news too. Stark's been taken, and no one knows where he is. What's even freakier is how close it is to what was in the comic."
"No way. A comic can't predict stuff like that."
"Well, I compared the comic and the news—damn, it's almost identical!"
"The author must have some psychic ability or something. There's no way it's this accurate."
"Come on, if the guy could see the future, wouldn't he just buy a lottery ticket and quietly become a billionaire?"
"I think the comic writer must be involved in the kidnapping. It's the only explanation that makes sense."
"Are you serious? He'd be an idiot to draw something like that after being involved in a crime."
"Well, if he isn't part of it, then what? You think he's some kind of prophet?"
"That's impossible. It's not like this is some ancient Mayan prophecy. The guy's just a comic book artist."
"Maybe. But don't forget, Walker's originally from ancient China. Who knows what kind of stuff he's into."
As I scrolled through the online discussions, I couldn't help but sigh at the wild imaginations of these internet users. The speculation was already all over the place. Some folks thought I had psychic powers, but most assumed I was somehow involved in a terror plot to kidnap Tony Stark.
Let them speculate. I knew the rumors were boosting my comic sales through the roof. And as far as the government's suspicions? I knew that was inevitable. Someone was bound to knock on my door with questions about *Iron Man*. I wasn't worried, though. If things got dicey, I was sure Nick would show up within ten minutes.
Then came the explosion. My front door was blown off its hinges. I narrowed my eyes. Judging by their entrance, these weren't S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.
I put down my teacup and glanced up, taking in the sight of at least twenty soldiers surrounding me, their rifles trained on my head.
"Don't move! You're surrounded!" one of them barked.
I just leaned back on my couch, crossing my legs casually. "Breaking and entering? Pretty sure I'm within my rights to defend myself," I said coolly.
The soldiers exchanged glances, no doubt thinking I'd lost my mind.
"First of all, we're legal. We've got a warrant," said a gruff voice. "Second, as a suspect, I order you to get on your knees with your hands on your head."
I turned my gaze toward the man speaking. There he was—General Ross, the guy who was infamous for trying to control special individuals to build the perfect army. He was older than I expected, with half-gray hair and an authoritative presence that clearly said he was used to getting his way.
Ross looked me over, probably expecting to see a scared man on the verge of breaking down. Instead, I sat there calm as ever, sipping my tea. If anything, his expression grew more puzzled. A regular comic book artist, surrounded by armed soldiers, yet I wasn't even breaking a sweat.
Unless I was an ex-military man or, in his mind, a terrorist with an extreme agenda. From Ross's perspective, my calm demeanor probably screamed that I had something to hide, and the fact that *Iron Man* predicted Stark's disappearance didn't help.
"You've got guts," Ross said, narrowing his eyes. "Among all the terrorists I've met, you're the most brazen."
I chuckled. "And out of all the soldiers I've seen, you're the oldest."
One of the soldiers stepped forward, gun raised, clearly eager to teach me a lesson. But Ross held up his hand, stopping him. He knew better than to escalate things here. If something went wrong—if Stark ended up dead because of this—there would be consequences that even he couldn't afford.
Ross was smart enough to realize that if I had any connection to Tony's kidnapping, the last thing I'd be doing is sitting here, calm as a cucumber. He wasn't entirely wrong. What he didn't know was that the whole situation was playing out exactly as I'd expected.
If only he could hear the thoughts running through my head. He'd probably laugh at his own paranoia. But I couldn't help but respect his imaginative thinking. Clearly, Ross had a flair for drama. Or maybe it was just part of his job.
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