This is my baby. Judge it if you want, I really don't care. Rating may change.
"In war, truth is the first casualty." –Aeschylus
What makes a villain a villain? Who decides what's right and what's wrong? How far is too far? Just how thick is the thin line we've been toeing our entire lives?
How do we justify the things we have done, and will do?
(Why do we justify them at all?)
. . .
He just appears out of nowhere one day.
There is no warning, no reason.
It just happens.
There had been rumors, though nothing substantial, of a red and gold robot flying around Afghanistan, blowing things up. There was a lot of speculation about who or what it actually was, if it was a weapon terrorists had been able to get their hands on, if it was even real at all.
No one expected it to suddenly appear and blow an entire Stark Industries storage building sky high and start shooting beams of energy at the first responders.
It, he, laughs and mocks the SHIELD agents that show up to apprehend him, acts as if it were all a joke, just a game that they had lost and he had won.
They shoot at him and he cackles as their bullets ricochet off his metal (armor? Body?) Frame. He swoops down and lands next to a rookie, throwing an arm around the kid to prevent him from retreating.
"Isn't it beautiful? I think so." He says, waving an arm in the direction of the flames, "Though I agree," he continues as if the agent had said something, "Not my best work. I'll do better next time." He promises.
"Next time?" The kid is finally able to squeak out.
"Obviously," He says as if it were just that, turning a blank face, far too menacing to have such humor coming from it, to the rookie, "I'm having fun."
Another agent, losing his patience with the tension and inaction of just standing by and watching, shoots the red and gold figure in the back of the head. The bullet, of course, ricochets, like all the others before it. A shout is heard and one of the other agents stumbles, clutching his shoulder from where the shot had gone wide. In his defense, he stays standing.
"Now, why did you have to go and do that? I'm going to get blamed for that, I just know it." The robotic man sighs and releases his hostage, shooting back into the sky.
Coulson arrives on scene just in time to see red and gold streak across the sky. He takes in the carnage around him that said streak had left and curses on the inside.
He had a bad feeling about this.
. . .
The next day the tabloids and news stations are all screaming and wondering about the red and cold robot destroyer.
About the Ironman.
. . .
*Peaks out from behind a wall* Sooo... this has been living in my head for a long time. Like, really long. Like, this existed before any of the works I've posted, I've just never written it.
And I haven't posted it because not only do I fear I won't be able to do it justice, but also because it's one of my favorites and I would hate to start it and not finish it.
But I'm going to try. I don't have and ending, just a vague direction I need to go in. Another reason I've never started it is because I have so many versions of it. Which is where you guys come in! Comment on pairings (if any) and how you'd like to see this go. Most likely I have a version similar to it.
(P.S. I know it's short. Chapters will be longer. Probably. I'll try.)