On June 26, 2011, at 12:04am, PST, Thomas Lindemann (newly minted PhD), checked his watch, stretched his long, narrow frame, and rose to his feet, a broad grin spreading slowly over his face. As he gathered up his papers, he allowed his mind to wander back to his comfortable apartment, the sunlight that would stream through the large, eastward-facing windows, and the three calico cats that would settle over his legs and allow him a long, restful sleep. He had been on monitor duty for three days, with only the occasional blip or minor power surge for company. But now he had earned the feather bed, and the warm chamomile, and the sound of the Bach-Goldberg variations playing softly as he fell asleep. He nodded cheerfully to the small maintenance worker who hurried by, and the man stopped briefly, hesitating.
"You have a good night now, sir. You oughta get home, you've been here for a while."
"I couldn't agree more. I'll be going as soon as my replacement arrives. Goodnight to you." The maintenance man jerked his head in acknowledgment and disappeared into the lift, and it was only minutes later that Thomas realized what what he had said.
You've been here for a while. But how would a maintenance worker know that, when he had been there all of an hour, and Thomas had never seen him there before… Oh.
Thomas leapt into action, pulling up the data from the secondary sensors. Where the primary screens showed regular flux, the backup data showed spikes that Thomas had never seen before, growing exponentially with each passing second. At this rate, the Arc Reactor in the next chamber would explode into a mess of radiation in mere minutes. Hands shaking, Thomas reached for the landline, praying that they (whoever they were, he realized with a jolt that he would never know) hadn't cut the line. The dial tone was the sweetest music he had ever heard, and as he dialed Ewan's phone, his finger had steadied.
"Yeah, yeah nearly there, you uptight-"
"No, listen, Ewan, turn back right now."
"What?"
"The reactor is compromised. They hacked our sensors, so I didn't see it, but it's on some sort of amplifying feedback loop. I estimate that it will ignite in approximately 290 seconds."
"Thomas-"
"I need to shut down the facility and contain the damage. I think I can limit the radius of the explosion to this building if we act quickly. I need you to phone Stark's emergency line now-"
"Thom-"
"Shut up, Ewan. Tell Stark to try to cut our power remotely." Thomas spoke quickly and crisply, holding the mouthpiece between his cheek and shoulder, and his fingers flew over the controls as he typed furiously.
"Okay Tom, okay." Dial tone again. Thomas slammed the phone down and continued working. He heard the clicks and slams as the facility locked down. Then there was silence. He sat back and surveyed his work. The collateral damage was minimized. Now came the waiting.
Thirty seconds to go. The ringing of the phone interrupted the thick silence, and Thomas leapt for it.
"Ewan."
"Thomas." Ah. "They couldn't shut it down. Something's blocking the controls." The normally booming Scottish brogue had shrunk into a trembling whisper.
"I see. Well, the damage will be limited to a radius of about thirty meters around the reactor. I'm sure that a containment crew is well on its way, so the effect should be minimal."
"Stark is on the line to speak to you, if-"
"No, I'll talk to you. There was a man here just before the spike. Short, slight, Caucasian, accent from the Midwest, late forties, at a guess. He was dressed as a maintenance man, but I'm certain that he was the operative."
"Okay. I'll pass it on."
"And feed my cats, would you? Chamberlain gets testy and bullies his sisters."
"Of course." The silence bore down on them.
"Is that a Bach cantata I hear?"
"Yeah, I know he's your favorite."
"Indeed. Such a precise mind. Thank you, Ewan."
"Yeah. Don't mention it."
The media coverage of the Arc Reactor explosion received enthusiastic media coverage, which vacillated between a condemnation of Stark Industries' reckless energy policy and (presumably) careless handling of "Arc-Gate" and minute dissection of the character of the late Dr. Lindemann. The accident that had killed the young, handsome German physicist, was quite possibly (as a pretty reporter speculated on CNN) his own act of sabotage on behalf of his own government and the Russians.
Two days later, Tony Stark boarded a private jet and flew to London with his close associate, Bruce Banner (oh what fun the tabloids had with that little partnership) on unspecified business.