Howard Stark always was the mad scientist type of genius. He was a proud man who rarely unveiled his creations until they were near complete and he expected the same level of intellect in his four-year-old son. He even tested his own creations on himself from time to time, though his most favorite test subject happened to be Anthony Edward Stark, his son. His greatest creation. Tony's lips curved into a thin-lipped smile while his jaded whiskey eyes hid behind heavy lids. The familiar weight of a semi-automatic pistol felt both heavy and comforting in his grip and the ringing in his ears had yet to subside from the roar of the memories that constantly plagued his mind. Yet, even with the roar, he could still hear the distance voices of his teammates arguing. Over what, he didn't know. Nor did he care.
Tony Stark was tired. Bone-deep, aching tired. The type of exhaustion that settled heavily onto your bones and carved a cozy little home out of the marrow within them. It was a type of exhaustion very few were aware of. Thor and Loki, two gods, respectively, did not understand this type of exhaustion. While they were gifted with longevity, they too would die one day and they'd meet Odin and Frigga in Valhalla once again. The few who did understand him, ironically, didn't seem to be gods at all. Bruce Banner and Wade Wilson certainly weren't gods Not by a long shot but given time, Tony thought that one day they could be remembered as such, just like how Thor and Loki are.
He flicked the safety off and pulled back the firing pin and he knew the others fell silent at the all too familiar sound of a gun cocking. He felt their burning gazes but it didn't matter, it wasn't like they'd stop him. Or remember it when he woke up. They never did, it seemed no one ever did. ❛I'm tired, guys. I think I'm gonna go rest for a bit.❜ He planted the muzzle firmly against the side of his head and his finger seemingly caressed the trigger subconsciously as he was pulled back into the darkness of his memories. At eight, Tony Stark had been diagnosed with cancer. Inoperable, they said. And his mother wept while his father stood there, silently fuming but he wasn't angry at Tony. He was scared. And scared people do what they do best, they panic and they fuck up. At eight, his father gave him an untested strain of a new serum he was concocting. One could say it was the cure of cancer, but that'd be incorrect because it didn't turn out that way. Tony still died nearing ten years old but he didn't stay dead. He was alive, again, one day later and his father only knew something was wrong because just the day before, Tony was terminally ill and quite literally on his death bed so when he asked Tony how he was feeling, a traumatized nine-year-old boy looked at his father with big brown eyes and said the first thing that came to mind: ❛I remember dying.❜
And his father's heart stopped at that moment, he knew. And his mothers did too. Howard denied the possibility, at first. But after one too many accidents that no one seemed to remember but the boy himself and the technology monitoring said boy, Howard began to run tests. Any and all he could get his hands on and when they came back they showed what Tony already knew. That he was different, inhuman. He still remembers his mother looking at his father with so much fear it was near oppressive. Her warm complexion was eerily pale. ❛Howard❜ She whispered, ❛What did you do?❜ And while they were happy to have their son back, it was at a cost greater than they expected. Tony Stark couldn't die. Nor would anyone remember his death either. Nobody but him and Death itself, it seemed. He was a mistake in creation, a thing Death had to subtract to keep the balance and order over life and death. He was a being quite literally out of time.
His father never apologized for it, never even talked about it and Tony thought that maybe it was because he was feeling the burden of playing God. The engineer resented him quite a bit, hated him even. Because what was life to a guy who couldn't die? Who couldn't fully appreciate what life had to offer?
❛...Tony?❜
He pulled the trigger and was deafened by the shock of an active bullet leaving its chamber and then, finally, darkness. Peace.