I: A Merchant of Death

He was being held hostage. That was obvious – they'd had him in a cage on the river for 26 hours, standing next to a rotting corpse. He'd realised three hours into his initial capture that those who'd taken him had hidden the water based prisons well as none of the passing US patrol boats could hear his panicked screams for help. After pushing the corpse out of the cage and letting it follow the current, a small man hauled him onto the bamboo walkway and brought him up to the main hut. They then called up some American base camp with demands, threatened him and gave him an ultimatum.

"You make us weapons to take out Americans, yes?" The gold toothed man grinned at him and he found himself holding up his free middle finger and spitting in the direction of the faces of the frighteningly scarred and slightly deformed leaders of what must have been some branch of the Viet Cong. The one missing an eye planted a bullet in his left foot. "We understand your hesitation, Merchant of Death. You try to distance yourself from your violent past with your shiny, golden Oscar. But we see. We see behind that shit; you and your company are making weaponry that harm our women and our children."

He hissed his words out through the pain coursing through his leg, his eyes narrowed and jaw tight. "I haven't designed a weapon since 1963;when I fucking found out America had involved themselves in something that wasn't their problem."

"Weapons or you die, Mr Stark."

With that, they locked him in a damp room, with infected cuts and a shattered left foot. Another hostage (the only other one valuable enough to keep alive), Yinsen, treated his wounds before they went septic and helped him build his masterpiece.

For a month, he forgot about films, actors, actresses, producers, screenplays, cameras, awards, music, machinery, Pepper, Obadiah, Jarvis and his company and created the most advanced, brutal and frankly, horrific, weapon that he possibly could.

Something had to go wrong after a month of almost solitude. Right before the planned escape, Yinsen had been deemed no longer necessary as they had acquired a fitter, healthier doctor and was more useful to their captors as a partaker in a heated game of Russian roulette. He was gone seven minutes into the game and thrown into the river for the rats to feast on. He snatched the blood and brain matter soaked bandana from Yinsen's greying body and put it in his pocket.

Tony made haste and left the next day, wearing the khaki bandana around his forehead out of respect. He made sure that every one of his captors was dead or dying, that all other prisoners were as freed as he could get them and then he stole a boat, finding himself on American territory two long days later. He was flown back home immediately and heralded as a great American hero.

He certainly didn't feel like a hero.

And this was the start of his downfall. His documentary (which was the only reason he'd been captured in the first place) was only a hit because of his kidnapping; the military hassled him for his master weapon, despite Rhodey's insistence that his choice on the matter wouldn't budge; Obadiah had been selling his arms illegally (and met his demise during an unfortunate trip to the "massage parlour"; those hookers cannot be trusted around tasers and water); his feature film following the documentary was described as a "heroin fuelled mess" and then he was poisoned by ridiculously bad and extremely jealous rival director Justin Hammer (who'd actually managed to do something that had been viewed as worse than Tony's film).

The poison was weaker than the amount of heroin and scotch in his system. Still, Tony found himself waking up after three days in a horribly sterile environment, strapped to a board and sweating so profusely, it was as if his skin was melting.

Pepper came in an hour after he awoke, explained how he'd almost died, that his picture, starring Natalie Rushman and newcomer, British singer-songwriter, Lukas Odinson, had been put on hold and that he was going to be "just fine".

She then muttered something about "one of [his] actors" having a "problem" too, her eyes sparkling with a knowing glint and then simply saying to him, "I'm sure you'll be as thick as thieves by the time you leave."

Tony attempted to question her, but found his throat too dry and closed his eyes in defeat when she pressed a light kiss to his sticky cheek, leaving him in the clinical smelling room, turning the lights out on her way.

He whimpered and attempted to turn over. His bones protested and his skin suddenly felt like it was coming loose. Needless to say, he stayed in the same spot.