Marvel owns Iron Man, not me. I've learned to live with that. These things happen.
"These women nowadays...I can't say I understand them really. The last ten dates or so I've been on all start with me and the waiter at whatever overpriced Thai bar waiting on my young companion to finish texting before she can look at the menu. There's only so much small talk I can make with a Thai waiter that may or may not speak English. My thai's a little rusty. I don't know how young guys today can take it, but then again I look around, and the guys are doing the same thing. Tables and tables of attractive young couples sitting across from one another that would rather stare into their phones than, Y'know, look at each other. God forbid. I tried to follow suit, but call me old fashioned, I just couldn't. It just felt rude. Even for me. The texting goes on into the night, while I pretty much talk to myself. By the time my date is telling me I HAVE to read Harry Potter, I'm digging my fingernails into my thighs to keep thoughts of ordering a bottle of tequila off my mind. The first few dates I went on with these twenty somethings, I just knew I wasn't getting laid that night. There was just 0 interest on the other side of the table. I mean, wasn't I an engaging conversationalist? I'm a billionaire, I'm in The AVENGERS! Isn't that just a little more interesting than hearing about her friend who plays bluegrass and blogs about coffee beans? Anyway, I just knew I was headed back home alone, which was the real tragedy, because I definitely wasn't here for the conversation. But when I dropped her off at her place, she invited me up, and uh, you figure out the rest. Afterwards, she told me I Had to leave because she had a friend coming over to watch The Little Mermaid. Like this is a normal thing for a 24 year old woman to do. Hell, maybe it is now. I don't know. Anyway, every date since has gone the same way since, just with different women. Serves me right I guess. I shouldn't be out there anyway. I should be at home with a wife and kids. But that just didn't pan out. I could date women my age, but...that never seems to work out so well either. Just for different reasons."
The robber held the cashier around the neck with one hand, pointed the loaded .38 out the busted window with the other. Three patrol cars parked outside. Six or so cops aiming their issued weaponry back at the robber.
"Where's the SWAT team?!"
"What're you new? They don't do convenience stores. I'd get ready for a long night, or an unhappy ending to this story. Or both."
A nearby car blared out the deafening harmonica of Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues". Closer and louder still until the music replaced the thoughts in the heads of the officers when they learned it was no car stereo system. The music abruptly stopped and was replaced with a warbled, electronic voice.
"What have we got?" Stark asked.
"Iron Man! Jeez, it's good to see you!"
"Yep. Get that a lot. So where're we at?"
"Sure, it's nice to see him, but what the hell is he doing here? This is a standard 7-11 robbery. Not an alien invasion!"
"Well, everybody needs a hand once in awhile."
Stark turned and began walking toward the shattered front window of the convenience store, the heavy footfalls of the Iron Man suit clanking with every step. Stark stepped in through the broken window into the robbers line of sight.
"Iron Man?! What- Look, that's far enough right there!"
Stark made his way down the aisle toward the gunman and the hostage at a deliberate, relaxed pace.
"Stop, man! I'll blow this guy's brains out!"
Stark continued on, closer and closer to the 7-11 robber. The gunman pushed the cashier down in a frenzy and fired the .38 at Stark. Hitting him in the chest, the bullet ricocheted off the metal, demolishing a box of Rice Krispies nearby. Before another shot could be fired, Stark had the gun and the man's hand, and crushed both with a clench of his fist. The man screamed in agony and hysterics, before Stark put him to sleep with a single headbutt. The sound the metal made on the man's skull almost made Stark's head hurt by proxy.
Stark lifted the face plate of the Iron Man helmet and looked down at the crouching cashier with his own eyes.
"You good?"
The old Indian man simply stared back at him.
Stark made his way back outside where the policemen had now lowered their weapons.
"Officers, the threat has been neutralized. But you may want to call it an ambuhlance. He's uh, he's gonna be feeling me later on."
Two of the officers nonchalantly made their way inside the 7-11, cutting their eyes at Stark as they passed.
"No, that's okay. Don't thank me. Just did your job for you."
"Yeah, we noticed. I guess we're not needed with you superhero types around. You gonna pay our mortgage too when we get laid off?"
"Asshole!" another officer shouted at Stark.
"Okay, I can tell when I'm not wanted. But call somebody else next time."
"We didn't call you this time!"
Stark lowered his faceplate and flew away.