Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points
Summary:
Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of dodging bullets and adapting to various terrain. Two years of being the 'perfect' soldier. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.
All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.
It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.
Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me
Author's Note:
I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.
These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is very observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.
One more note:
I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.
Prologue
The Breaking of Monotony
They never tell us how to deal with it. The aftermath of it all. They don't tell us how to come back from the cold tango, Death barely releasing its tight grip and letting you slip through its fingers. They don't tell us how to come back from the opressive night terrors, of sleeping with one eye open. They don't tell us how to deal with the survivor's guilt that follows being forced to walk the path alone. The hollow medals of 'honor' and the pathetic attempt at sympathy for the loss.
Counseling is offered, but Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is not something I suffer from. In fact, I don't suffer at all. I live in a beautiful suburban beach house residing on the Intercoastal of the West Palm Beach area. I live a life of quiet luxury and without struggle. No. I don't suffer from PTSD. In fact, I suffer because of life itself.
Nothing changes. It's always the same. I wake up, after only four hours of sleep. I go for a morning jog along the soft, sandy beaches. I stop at a local coffee shop and remain there for an hour, doing nothing more than watching the people carry on with their lives as though nothing is wrong in this world. Of course, that's the reason we do what we do. So they don't have to. After coffee, I take a stroll through a park, or through a shopping center, never with a real destination in mind. I meet up with my childhood friend, David, and head to work at his tattoo shop. I don't really need to work, but it beats not doing anything. After a long, monotonous day of marking the skin of others, David tells me to head out so he can lock up.
Thus, I am currently at the end of my daily, repetitive cycle.
"Good evenin', Miss Blaines," the friendly, older man greets from behind the bar.
Jacob Devons is a man, in his early fifty's, who manages and runs a small, Irish-inspired pub. It isn't like other bars in the area, filled with intoxicated men cheering at the sports viewed on the several televisions, and it doesn't cater to a lot of recently-legal kids. Jake's Pub carries a warm, homely feel, with its dim lighting and soft Celtic music filling the air.
"Jake," I greet, nodding curtly at the man, "If you don't mind, I'd like my usual with a side shot of Jameson."
Efficient as ever, Jake mixes up a classic Rum and Coke (relatively light on the Coke) and fills a shot of light amber whiskey before sliding them across the bar table. Knocking back the shot, I inhale deeply as the familiar heated tingle follows the whiskey, warming my insides instantly. Giving the man a thankful look, I take a small sip of my drink and allow my body to relax.
"I take it, it's been a tough day?" Jake asks, taking back the shot glass and quickly cleaning it.
I shrug, "Not particularly. Today doesn't carry the best memories."
Noticing Jake grab another glass, I watch in silence as he fills the glass with a familiar brand of scotch, and without looking away from Jake, I greet, "Shut up shop already, David?"
"Of course," the auburn-haired man replies as he takes the empty stool next to me.
David Jerome has been my friend since I was very young, still in grade school. He always carried a carefree, joyful air around him that attracted many people. We may have resided on different areas of a school's social spectrum, but David was the type to stick by his friends, despite what others may think. He was handsome, in a boy-next-door way. His hair always a mess and unkempt. Dark brown eyes always lit up with some form of amusement, or always so full of life and emotion. He always dressed in a manner that showed a sense of carefree professionalism, most of the time a nice button-down with a pair of jeans. You wouldn't figure him to be an Ink Addict, but he has a way of making beautiful art for anyone that comes into his shop.
"Thanks, Old Man," David says as Jake sets the drink in front of him, "So, a curious thing happened when I was closing up. A guy came into the shop, asking for you." I glance over at David, perking up a solitary eyebrow, "He was pretty tall, maybe about...an inch or so taller than me. Dark skinned. Spoke with a great deal of intelligence. Carried himself with confidence, yet remained humbled."
"I can't say I know what you are talking about," I reply, silently wondering who visited the shop.
"Well, he gave me this," David hands me a small business card, "Asked that you call him as soon as possible."
Taking the card from him, I give it a quick glance, before nodding, "Alright." I slide the card into the front left breast pocket of my button-down t-shirt, "So, Jake, anything new going on?"
"Some big engineer tycoon, Tony Stark, went missing a couple days ago during a weapon demonstration over in Afganastan," I give a small snort of dismissal as I take a sip of my drink, "Apparently a lot of people are putting up money to find any information on him."
It isn't that I don't care if Tony Stark had been kidnapped. In fact, it can cause a lot of problems in the Middle East. Anyone cut from the same cloth as me knows the Stark Family, or at least knows of them. They certainly supplied the U.S. military with Grade-A weapons and continued to innovate them, and other supplies that help keep the soldiers safe. It just didn't sit well with me, remembering opposing forces carrying the same brand name.
"I don't see how putting up a reward across the States is going to provide any information if he's in Afganastan," I point out logically.
David makes a noncommital grunt, "Let's just hope they find Stark. Last thing we need is Afgani military gaining an upperhand in any situation."
"So, Jake, how's that granddaughter of your's doing?" I ask, changing the subject.
Jake grins widely in response, "She just started her Sophomore year at Juilliard. She's hoping to get the lead in this year's Nutcracker."
"That's great!" David exclaims with a matching smile, "Give her our best."
Jake's granddaughter, Carmen, was a beautiful and talented girl that expressed a deep love for the performing arts. The girl danced, sang and acted with a grace that most teenagers would need classes to get. When I first noticed Carmen, when she was just starting middle school and I was still in the middle of my high school years, I had encouraged her to persue her love for such art. With the turn of the economy and many families losing jobs, homes and taking a major pay-cut, Carmen's hard work had come to a grinding pause when her mother had lost her job and could no longer contribute money toward Carmen's savings. Not wanting something as fickle as money stand in the way of Carmen and her dreams, I used what money I received as a signing bonus to give to Carmen's mother, in exchange for her to keep my house taken care of while I was on business.
Jake, still to this day, carries on as though I am part of their family. The sentiment is respected on my behalf, but hard to return.
Catching the time, I let out a soft sigh before downing the last of my drink, "Thanks, Jake. Until next time."
As usual, the man waves off our pay as we are sent on our way. Lighting up a cigarette outside of the pub, David and I walk in silence. It's always in silence at this time of the day. Not that we have nothing to talk about, but David has always understood the way my mind works. With a few soft words of farewell, David and I part ways at a cross intersection and I relax in the comfortable loneliness.
Finally arriving at the house, I kick the door shut before toeing off my sneakers by the door. Devesting myself of my clothes, I change into a simple pair of sweatpants and a tank top, my dogtags dangling between my breasts. Returning downstairs, I glance down at the business card dancing between my fingers as I contemplate calling the number. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I place my phone to my ear as it rings.
"This is Rhodes."
"I must say, it's been a while, Rhodes," I reply, tossing the card on the table.
"Blaines? Is that really you?"
I can't stop the subtle eye roll at his surprise, "What are you doing in West Palm Beach and why are you seeking me out?"
"I need your help with something."
I snort, "I'm retired."
"Come on, Blaines. This is a life or death mission."
"Yes, because that is going to make me jump at the chance," I retort, earning a chuckle from him despite the apparent seriousness of the situation, "Well, since you've been having me tailed ever since I stepped out of the bar, why don't you bring yourself inside for a coffee and we can talk in a more private manner."
"I should have figured you'd catch on."
If I was anyone else, I might be offended, "Please. I marked your men in the time it took me to light a cigarette."
"Alright, Blaines."
Hearing him hang up, I sigh as I move to put on a pot of coffee. Hearing a knock, I call out for him to enter and I must say, it really had been a long time. James Rhodes, a Colonel now from what I hear, had been my drill sergent and somehow ended up impressed with my quick learning and high levels of observation. Staring at the man, I straighten up and give him a quick salute, and his answering grin tells me he's caught my mockery of him.
"Well, well, well. Lieutenant Colonel Korianna Blaines," he muses aloud, with a soft grin on his face, "I must say, it is good to see you alive and kicking."
"Apparently not kicking hard enough," I retort as I motion for him to have a seat, "So, how does it feel to be rolling up the ranks?"
"Good, although, there is a serious problem I need help with."
I allow a small smirk to tug at my lips, "I'm afraid I'm not willing to help you with anything to...serious."
Hearing the double entendre in my words, he gives me a small glare, "Very funny. I'm sure you've heard about the disappearance of Tony Stark," I nod, "Mr. Stark was attacked while traveling with a caravan of soldiers on his way to give a demonstration with the new Jerico Missile. We haven't found any leads on where he might be, given if he's even alive."
"I take it you knew this man personally?" Seeing Rhodes nod curtly, I slide him a mug of coffee, "If you want my honest opinion; from what you've told me alone, I'd say this has some kind of espienoge written all over it," My gaze follows as his spine straightens at the thought, "If he was attacked on his way to demonstrate the Jerico Missile, he was most likely taken for his engineering skills, instead of monetary gain. That also means, whoever did attack the caravan knew exactly where he would be, who he'd be with and where he would be heading. I'd start looking into possible rival companies; maybe Hammer Industries. Hammer has his fingers in weapon production."
Rhodes smiles warmly, "Man. What I wouldn't do to have a soldier like you watching my back."
"Let's cut past the formalities. Why don't you tell me why you are approaching me for this?" I question.
"Due to Stark being the CEO of his company, and his company being one of the greatest benefactors to the United States military, him possibly being in enemy hands has caught the attention of every branch," Rhodes responds, his previous humor shifting into a more serious manner.
"All of them are only out to find Stark in order to get in the man's good graces," I summerize, getting a nod in return, "So, you aren't here to ask for my help in locating Stark, since you have every branch engaged in a political pissing contest."
"I need you to do what you do best."
I snort, "I'm afraid I'm not employed as a marksmen anymore."
"No. I don't need you to take out a target," Rhodes replies sternly, "I need you to remove the soldier and step away from being what you have been conditioned to become," I give him a questioning look, "You and I both know that you are a master at infiltration, so I need you to work more...behind the scenes. We have enough people looking for Stark that information will start coming up. What we don't have is a name or face behind this situation. I thought it was odd that these terrorists knew exactly where Stark would be."
"You want me to act as an employee of Stark Industries?" Rhodes nods, "Even if I do this, there's no way of knowing I'd be high enough in the company to have such...liberties."
Rhodes flashes a grin of pure arrogance, "I happen to know of one person, high in the chain of command, that we can trust. Ms. Virginia Potts is Tony Starks assistant, practically helps him run logistics and finances for the company. If anyone can help us, and keep it in the best interest of Stark himself, it's her."
"Give me tonight to think it over, and I will let you know my answer in the morning," I reason, getting a nod in return.
Standing up as he did, I tense as the man embraces me gently, "You were my proudest achievement, and I'm sorry I never had the chance to talk to you about-"
"I'm fine," I cut him off, giving him a rare, genuine smile, however small it might be, "Despite the circumstances, I am..." I pause, searching for the right defining word, "...pleased that you came."
Rhodes pulls back, giving me a soft smile, "Until tomorrow."
"Until tomorrow."
Walking him to the door, I watch in silence as he climbs into his vehicle and then he is gone. Just like that. Just like everyone else. He will return, of course, but never to stay. They never do. Sad fact for life, but it is something I have grown accustom to.
Laying back on my bed, I stare at the ceiling contemplating on whether or not I take this mission. I've never backed down from one before, and have yet to fail. Trust me. I have the scars of my consistent success to prove it true. Am I willing to risk being thrown back into a world where politics and military reside heavily? All for some intelligent man who happens to operate a multi-billion dollar company that manufactures military-used weaponry?
Am I willing to leave a man such as that in the hands of terrorists?
Heaving a sigh, I grab my phone.
I'm in. Should have everything settled within a few days. Destination?
Malibu, California
Accepted. Message will delete themselves within thirty seconds.
I'll set up a meeting with V.P., two days, Jake's, 22:00
Erasing the messages, I sigh as I drop my phone back on the nightstand.
So much for a life of monotony.
The next two days consisted of me working around the clock to familiarize myself with Stark Industries, as well as get everything wrapped up here. David had agreed to move into the house, saying his rent was becoming too steep, so I didn't have to worry about getting it sold on a dwindling market area. My afternoons were busy with interviewing my replacement, as I told David I wasn't sure how long this would keep me away from the East Coast. I managed to find one in a young man, early twenties, and carried a deep love for tattoos. Ryan LeCoure graduated school with average marks, but his grades in all areas of Fine Arts caught my eye.
Ten o'clock rolls around and I am comfortable seated on top of my usual bar stool. Jake, busy with the few patrons, kept my glass filled as I try to ignore the faint buzzing in the back of my head. I promised myself I wouldn't get caught up in anything political or military. I swore I would focus on living an easy life, but even then I knew it would never stay. Normality doesn't suit people like me. It can't. It physically and mentally doesn't work for people conditioned and trained the way I had been. I always find myself studying every single person within a twenty-foot radius, marking them as a threat or not. I still arm myself, though no one could see where I have stashed the hidden blade, even when I go for my morning jog, or coffee. I can tell you everything about a person; the kind of life the live, their personality, their job, their home life, and all of it from just watching them for a minute.
"Excuse me?" The soft voice causes my ears to proverbially perk up, "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I am supposed to be meeting with a Lieutenant Colonel Corey Blaines. Do you know where I might find him?"
Glancing over at the voice, I pause in my response to the greeting. She's tall, and rather beautiful, if you ask me. Unlike my vintage 'Ramones' t-shirt and ripped denim jeans, she looked classy and casual in a simple flowing white skirt and a soft blue halter-styled top. She had orange-red hair, shoulder-length and left to frame her face delicately. Her eyes are a soft, light blue that reflects a sense of presence, but also humble.
Jake quirks an eyebrow at the woman, "I'm afraid you must be a bit confused, young miss. The only Lieutenant Colonel Blaines I know of is sitting right there."
As the woman turns in my direction, I meet her gaze with my own and raise my glass mockingly, "You must be Virginia Potts."
"You are Corey Blaines?" she questions, obviously in some form of shock.
"Lieutenant Colonel Korianna Blaines," I state, flashing her my standard license, and I watch as her eyes brighten with acknowledgment, "I am an old friend of Colonel Rhodes. You can just call me Kori, if you wish."
I feel momentarily confused by the blush on her cheeks, but she flashes me a bright smile, "Colonel Rhodes has said nothing but compliments about you. He says you are one of the best observant minds to date."
I shrug off her words, lifting my gaze to Jake, who stood at the other end of the bar, and I signal him to refill my glass for the third time, "I'm just good at what I do. So, Rhodes tells me that you and Mr. Stark are close."
"He's really the only family I have," I inwardly flinch as her eyes start to water, "He has such a brilliant mind, and while he can be a completely arrogant, self-absorbed asshole, he means well where it counts."
"The only thing we can do now, to ensure everything pans out the way we want it to, is to go over some story. Rhodes is the only one, outside of the two of us, that has knowledge of my military background. Rhodes and I both think there is something bigger at play here, based on the fact that the terrorists knew exactly where Stark would be when the caravan was hit. So, we need to collaborate a back story, so we don't get our signals crossed," I state as Jake tops off my glass and gives me a small smile.
She seems surprised by my words, nodding in complete understanding, "I see where you are going. If we can figure out who, in Tony's life, will benefit from this, then we can find Tony."
"Precisely," I reply curtly, "Now. I am Kori Sabelin and you have decided to hire an assistant, especially now that you don't have Stark to act as the head. I graduated from Florida State with a degree in Accounting, Business and Software Programming. You believed, with my resume as back up, that I would be best suited to handle the environment of Stark Industries and selected me based on this information alone. When you return to Malibu, you must treat me as you would any other assistant. We can't give off an air of familiarity, or give anyone reasons to speculate my being there. At all times, I will have my ears and eyes open, and will keep a firm watch on any incoming or outgoing transmissions in the next few weeks. Whoever might be behind this will grow comfortable and eventually slip up, and we will have to plan a discreet attack on the person responsible."
"Wow..." I glance over at the wide-eyed woman, "Rhodes said you were good, but I didn't think you'd be this...impressive," She blushes slightly at her admittance, "I feel a bit more comfortable knowing I have you on my side."
"Good. You will be leaving for Malibu tomorrow morning at 10:00. I will arrive in Malibu that night and we will start this business come Monday," I state as I finish my glass, signalling to Jake that I am done for the night.
Realizing our meeting is over, Ms. Potts stands up from her own stool, and extends her hand, "I can't thank you enough."
"It's no problem, Ms. Potts. I owe Rhodes a favor or two, so think nothing of it."
She smiles softly, "So modest as well," I try not to argue with her words as I shake her hand, "Future reference, everyone at Stark Industries calls me Pepper," I quirk an eyebrow, "It's a nickname Tony gave me. He tends to give everyone he meets nicknames, so if and when we do find him, don't take any of it to heart."
Standing at the terminal, I watch as people begin to stand as the flight number is called. Turning to David and Jake, a grunt escapes me as both men pull me into a hug. Stepping out of their embrace, I bid a farewell to Jake before turning to my childhood friend.
"Davvy," I intone.
He extends his hand, holding out a brand new MP3 player, a sad smile on his face, "I downloaded all of your favorites."
Gently taking the device from him, I lean forward, and in a very rare display of affection, I plant a small kiss to his cheek, "Take care. Try not to burn anything down."
Seeing the reminiscent glint in his eyes and the grin on his face, I step back and snap him a mocking salute. Handing the boarding pass to the woman by the gate and finding my seat, I try to relax. Putting the ear-bud headphones in my ears, I turn it on, and select one of the playlists and hit play.
She had the word
Had the way
The way of letting me know
She knew the game
Called the play
She hit me low
Said now you go your way
I'll go mine
And that's the start
Doctor, doctor
Ain't no cure
For the pain in my heart
Gimme a bullet to bite on, something to chew
Gimme a bullet to bite on, and I'll make believe
I'll make believe it's you
Don't need no drink
Don't need no drug
Don't need no sympathy
Sooner or later
Send me a bill
For what she's doing to me
Operator
Long distance lips
On the telephone
Come tomorrow
Come to grips
With being all alone
Gimme a bullet to bite on, something to chew
Gimme a bullet to bite on, and I'll make believe
I'll make believe it's you
A bullet to bite on
Gimme a bullet to bite on
Come on now
Gimme a bullet to bite on
Bullet to chew
I'll make the lady chew
I'll make the lady chew
Gimme a bullet to bite on
You're a bullet baby
I want a bullet to bite on
Sometimes I hate the irony in life.
That's just the beginning...it seems a bit slow now, but it will build up in the following chapters. Thank you for all who read the story, and I implore you to please leave reviews. Song is 'Gimme A Bullet' by AC/DC. The next chapter, and first, chapter will have a time skip to when Tony returns and Kori and Tony meet for the first time. This story will probably have a song from various Rock bands, (Tony more Classic, and Kori a bit of a mix between classic and modern), and lyrics will be cited and disclaimed after each chapter. Thanks for reading!