Rhodey Rhodes, Colonel of the United States Air Force, decorated military man, and Avenger, was sitting in Stark Tower when he heard the news. Stacey West, a reporter for Bugle News, had the story.
"In local news today, Justin Williams, an 18 year old black male, was shot today by Officer Smith down by 57th Street. Local authorities say, Williams was armed and that the shooting was an act of self-defense." Self-defense? Rhodey thought. Isn't that what they always say?
Tony Stark had stepped out on a business meeting, and his new AI, Friday, was not yet ready to run. So, Rhodey was stuck house sitting…and for once, he didn't mind being off base for.
"Authorities have also found that Williams, the victim, had had a criminal record and-"
Rhodey clicked the television off, and leaned into the couch. The tower was quiet, not even the sound of Stark's equipment could be heard. And inside of Rhodey Rhodes, decorated military man of the United States, sat a deep, cold stillness. Another person dead. They always bring up the criminal record, as if saying he went to jail for a small charge makes taking his life okay. They always chime in that the officer was terrified for his life. Who exactly had the right to be more afraid? The man with the gun, or the unarmed kid who was just trying to make his way home?
When James Rhodes was a boy, his mother would always send him out to the store for some small trinket. A jar of pickles or dinner, or some whipped cream for the cake she was baking. Nothing too big for him to carry alone.
"Now remember," she told him "Always ask for a bag after you buy your item." She would lean in close to him, close enough for him to see the fear in her eyes, "Do. Not. Leave that store without your purchase being in a plastic bag. Do you understand me?" She placed her hand on his shoulder…and it shook. "Do you understand me?" she repeated.
And Rhodey would nod.
It wasn't until he had gotten older, until his naiveté had subsided, that he understood his mother's fear. It wasn't until he learned what being black meant in the outside world. The distrust, the sideways glances, the whispered resentment that came with rising in the ranks of the military.
"What the fuck does that boy think he's doin' here?"
The men in the military, just like the people at MIT, and the people in the barracks, were not welcoming. To them, Rhodes was an outsider who did not belong in the realm of the elite, the heroes who wanted to follow in the footsteps of Captain America, and Peggy Carter, and Bucky Barnes. Real Americans. To them, James Rhodes was an eyesore who should have gotten shot on his way home from the store, or thrown into incarceration with the rest of his kind.
And yet here he was.
He was glad he was off base for this news. As much as the other officers liked to think themselves agents of peace and change, their comments were always so…uninformed.
"The officer was just doing his job," Private Jack would say.
"If he were really innocent, he wouldn't have had a record," Lt. Bradley would chime in. Colonel Rhodes had a record, he had gotten into fights as all boys his age had, but unlike his associates, his mistakes cost him his record. His mistakes cost him the trust of people who already don't want his face representing their nation.
And yet still, here he was. Colonel James Rhodes, partner to Iron Man, hero of the United States military, a man who had seen the face of true terror, and spat in its face. A black man. A Negro. A thug who wasn't even meant to be here.
"That's what they always say," Mama Rhodes was a woman of great inner stature. She always faced each day with a strong resilience, and often times Rhodey wondered how she managed. She held a job, kept a family together, was a loving wife and mother, and lead the church's choir rehearsals. The woman was magic…and working with Thor, and learning about Asgard, Rhodey knew his magic. "They'll always shame you, and black people who do amazing things because they're terrified," she said.
"Terrified of what?" Rhodey asked.
"They're terrified of the hope you bring."
Hope, given to those who need it most.
When he accepted his role as Iron Patriot, it was just to bring peace through the world (of course, that in and of itself was an arrogant idea. No one nation could bring peace to all corners of the globe), it was to bring hope. Hope that, for once, the image of a black man could inspire something more than just distrust, and fear. Hope that, just maybe, someone, somewhere might see the humanity within black faces. Hope that a scared cop with a loaded gun would look at an unarmed black man, or woman, and instead of firing, would find the shared humanity beneath the scared expressions, and biased media stories.
He could fly. He could fight. He could protect those who needed him…a black man who the world deemed a thug before he was even old enough to walk.
Rhodey shoved his hands into his pocket, and ran his fingers across his cellphone. He could call Tony, check in on him, take his mind off the news. But Stark couldn't ease the stillness in the pit of Rhodes stomach. Tony wouldn't be able to understand, to emphasize. He would try, of course, he would ask questions, he would bring up statistics, and promise to do what he could for this kid. But he wouldn't understand. Not in the way that Rhodey needed. Not in the way that could ease the heavy stone sinking into his guts. No, this was something Rhodey faced, and would always face, without Tony. But that never stopped him from pressing forward. From spreading hope for those who needed it most.
And hope, was something the world would always need.