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Seph stood on the jagged edge of a weathered rock, his boots firmly planted as the cool night breeze swept through the desert valley. The Ten Rings camp sprawled below, its crude barricades and floodlights giving it the appearance of a fortress—at least to anyone else.
To Seph, it was just another adventure.
From this vantage point, he could make out everything: the steady pacing of the guards, the clinking of beer bottles near the fire pit, and the rhythmic sound of boots crunching over sand.
Further in, there were tents—dozens of them, some serving as barracks, others packed with supplies and weapons. In the center stood a metal cage, and even without enhanced vision, Seph knew Tony Stark was inside.
He adjusted the grip on his utility knife, flipping it casually between his fingers as he assessed the scene. Fifty men, minimum. AKs, RPGs, and one guy with a machine gun mounted on the back of a truck. Overkill much?
He smirked. Let's even the odds.
The faint, familiar ticking began in the back of his mind—a whisper that always accompanied the flow of time. He could feel it, like an old friend tapping on his shoulder.
"Well," Seph muttered, sliding his goggles over his eyes, "Time waits for no one."
He stretched his fingers outward. The world around him shifted, the ticking growing louder. Everything slowed. The crackling of campfires deepened into a distorted rumble, the guards' movements becoming sluggish and dreamlike.
Seph vaulted off the rock, landing silently near his bike parked below. The sleek black motorcycle gleamed under the sunlight, its engine growling softly as he swung onto it.
"Time to make some noise," Seph whispered, revving the engine.
The bike roared to life, shattering the stillness as Seph shot toward the camp at blinding speed. To him, the guards' reactions were comically slow—turning their heads, raising their weapons, but all too late.
He leaned low over the handlebars, his movements fluid, as bullets zipped toward him like lazy fireflies.
The first guard barely managed to lift his rifle before Seph reached him. With a twist of the throttle, Seph slid the bike sideways, using its momentum to slam the man off his feet. He leaped off the bike mid-slide, landing with a roll and drawing a knife from his belt.
"Sorry, no autographs tonight," Seph quipped, throwing the blade. It struck true, embedding in the second guard's shoulder as the man crumpled with a pained yell.
Seph moved like liquid, his steps almost gliding as he darted toward the next group of guards. A hail of bullets came his way, but to Seph, they were laughably slow. He ducked, sidestepped, and rolled, the projectiles whizzing harmlessly past him.
One guard managed to get close, swinging the butt of his rifle in a desperate attempt to catch Seph off guard. Seph caught the weapon mid-swing, wrenching it from the man's hands and spinning it around.
"Thanks for the assist," Seph said, using the rifle to knock the guard unconscious with a single, calculated strike.
The sound of gunfire brought more guards into the fray. Shouts echoed through the camp, and floodlights swiveled, bathing the area in harsh white light.
Seph grinned, unbothered by the attention.
"Finally," He muttered, cracking his knuckles. "Let's turn up the heat."
Two guards charged him at once, one wielding a machete, the other a crowbar. Seph stepped into the attack, sidestepping the machete's swing and grabbing the crowbar mid-strike. Using the momentum, he spun, yanking the weapon free and slamming it into the machete-wielder's chest.
"You guys need better weapons," Seph joked, tossing the crowbar aside as the man crumpled.
Another guard fired at him from close range, but Seph darted forward, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and twisting it upward. The shot went wide, and Seph delivered a quick series of strikes to the guard's ribs, finishing with a brutal uppercut that sent him sprawling.
The camp was in chaos now. Guards shouted orders, some firing wildly while others tried to regroup.
"Is this your A-team?" Seph called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "I've seen high school paintball teams with better coordination!"
The fight shifted gears as a deep, guttural laugh echoed through the camp. A massive figure stepped into the clearing, his silhouette backlit by the floodlights. He was built like a tank, his arms bulging with muscle, and he carried a rocket launcher like it was a toy.
Seph's grin faltered for a split second. "Okay, that's new."
The giant leveled the rocket launcher at Seph.
"Say goodbye, little man," He growled, pulling the trigger.
Time slowed even further as the rocket spiraled toward Seph. Instead of dodging outright, he sprinted forward, eyes locked on the projectile. At the last possible moment, he leapt into the air, twisting his body as the rocket screamed past him. The resulting explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the camp, but Seph landed on his feet, skidding slightly on the sand.
"Nice shot," Seph said, brushing sand off his jacket. "But you might want to work on your follow-through."
The tank-like man roared, tossing the empty launcher aside and charging at Seph with a combat knife.
"Finally, some hand-to-hand," Seph said, cracking his neck. "I was starting to get bored."
The giant swung his knife in a wide arc, but Seph ducked under the blade, delivering a quick jab to the man's ribs. The tank barely flinched, his massive frame absorbing the blow like a brick wall.
"Alright," Seph muttered, dodging another swing. "Let's try a different approach."
He feinted left, then darted right, using his agility to get inside the giant's guard. With a burst of strength, Seph vaulted onto the man's back, locking an arm around his neck.
"Ever heard of the saying, 'The bigger they are, the harder they fall?'" Seph quipped, tightening his grip.
The giant roared, thrashing wildly as he tried to dislodge Seph. With a final, desperate effort, he slammed his back into a metal pole, forcing Seph to release him.
Seph stumbled but recovered quickly, raising his fists. "Okay, I'll admit it—you're tougher than the others. But I've still got time on my side."
The tank charged again, but Seph was ready. Time slowed to a crawl as he sidestepped the attack, delivering a precise strike to the back of the man's knee. The giant stumbled, and Seph seized the opportunity, landing a flurry of blows to his head and neck.
Finally, with a spinning kick, Seph sent the giant crashing into a stack of crates. The man groaned, his strength finally spent.
Seph stood over him, breathing heavily but triumphant. "You lose. Next time, bring a friend."
As the dust settled, the remaining guards hesitated, and their morale shattered. Seph picked up his bike, revving the engine.
"Here's the deal," He called out, his voice carrying over the camp. "You can either run and live to fight another day, or stay and end up like your big friend over there. Your choice."
One by one, the guards dropped their weapons and fled into the night. Seph smirked, satisfied, as he turned his bike toward the heart of the camp.
"Alright, Tony," He said under his breath. "Time to get you out of here."
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