Chapter One

Sometimes Tony envied the other Avengers, who weren't dependent on any sort of devices or suits or gadgets. As awesome as he was – and he was fully aware of exactly how awesome – without his Iron Man suit, he was vulnerable. Of course, he carried it with him all of the time, in some fashion or another, but sometimes there just wasn't time to get into it.

He reflected all this as he stared at the ceiling above him: plain concrete, just as the walls and the floor were. There were only two exceptions to the monotony: a steel door and a window, about three inches square. He had thought about getting up to look through the window, but he hadn't quite managed to get all his limbs in order yet. He had a throbbing headache, and his legs felt like jelly.

Yes, he was very sure that Steve or Thor would never find themselves in this sort of position.

While he studied the ceiling, he tried to put together the events of the previous evening. He had been at a charity dinner, hosted by Stark Industries, about green energy. The food had been good, the liquor plentiful, the ladies pretty. He had been enjoying himself, but around eleven PM, he had gotten a text saying he was needed back at SHIELD HQ, urgently. Since he didn't want everyone to realize he was leaving early, he had slid out a side door. And then –

Then what? That was the last thing he remembered. From the headache, either someone had walloped him one, or he had been drugged. He felt his skull for lumps or bruises. Nothing. Drugs, then.

After a few more minutes, he managed to drag himself to his feet and do a further study of his surroundings. His cell was about six feet squared. There was absolutely nothing in it besides a urinal on one wall. He made a face at it, but was secretly glad his captors were allowing him at least that dignity. A toilet would have been better, but he would take what he could get. There was no mattress, and his side ached from where he had been unconscious on the floor.

He went over to the window and looked through. The room on the other side was identical to the one he was in now, with one difference: Agent Phil Coulson was sitting on the floor, his legs folded underneath himself Indian-style, hands on his knees. It looked like he was meditating. Tony rapped on the glass. He could see the wires criss-crossing inside it. Reinforced. He wouldn't be able to break it with his bare hands, and even if he could, all it would gain him was entrance to an identical cell.

Coulson looked up at the noise, saw Tony's face in the window, and stood. "You're up, then?" The words were muffled by the glass, but audible. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, hell of a headache, Christ," Tony said. Had Coulson been with him the night before? He didn't remember seeing him, but then again the SHIELD agent was very good at blending in with a crowd and not being noticed. He had probably been there as security. "You?"

"Fine. Any ideas about where we are?"

Tony gave the cell another look, as if he might have missed something, but was forced to shake his head. "I don't remember jack shit about what happened last night. We haven't been out that long, though," he added, rubbing the stubble that had formed around his goatee. "So what do you think's going on here?"

"Looks to me like we've been kidnapped," Coulson said.

Tony gave the window a look and muttered, "You don't say!"

Before Coulson could reply, there was a noise outside the door. The rattle of keys, and then the sound of a code being punched into a keypad. The door to Tony's cell swung open. He gauged the opening quickly, but it was blocked by two men, one of whom waited in the door while the other entered the cell. He was tall, with bronze skin and black hair that was tied back into a neat ponytail, and was dressed in a business suit. What drew Tony's attention was the ring he wore on his right index finger, one with a black stone set in it, probably onyx.

"You must be ring number two," he said to the man. "I met ring number one in Afghanistan a few years ago. I ran, well, rings around him."

"Yes, I was acquainted with Raza," the man said, with a nod. "As you can see from your surroundings, I do not plan to be anywhere near as foolish as he was. Obviously, having you build weapons is doomed for disaster. Therefore, I will settle for having you design them. I am particularly interested in the weapon you used against Ivan Vanko at the Expo last year."

"Jesus," Tony muttered. He didn't think anyone had even seen that fight. Somebody obviously had. He raised his voice. "Yeah, that's great and all, but you can't seriously think that it's gonna work."

The man gestured, and accepted a briefcase from the guard still standing in the door. He opened it and set down a pad of paper and a pencil. "Here are your tools," he said. "With them, you will give me the specifications for that weapon. Once you have done that, we will consider whether to release you or not. There will be time for construction and testing, of course."

"I need a computer," Tony said.

"You didn't have a computer in Afghanistan."

"Well, yeah, actually, I did," Tony said, and the man simply shrugged. "Okay, come on, at least give me a freakin' calculator, not that I need one because I'm just that much of a genius, but show me a little mercy here, guys."

"I do not believe that is necessary," the man said. "I do not intend to make the same mistakes that my predecessor made. Paper and pencil is all you will have access to. Your cell will be monitored by people who speak English – not Hungarian, not Kurdish, but English – twenty-four hours a day. Do not misunderstand me; we will take care of you. You will be adequately fed. Of course, you will forgive the need for plastic utensils. Compliance will bring rewards. Lack of it will bring punishment."

"Oh yeah?" Tony asked, clearly unimpressed. "You can't go breaking my bones if you want me to design things for you."

"Of course not," the man said smoothly, and then tilted his head to the right. "Look through the window."

Almost unwillingly, Tony walked over to see Coulson having been hauled to his feet. He was flanked by three men, one of whom was holding what looked like a Taser.

"You did not think it was an accident that he was brought along with you, surely," the man said. "As punishing you would diminish your helpfulness, he will be the one who suffers for any . . . unreasonable behavior you may indulge in. Is that clear?"

Tony laughed. "Hey, you can threaten all you want, but I don't even like that guy."

The man gave him a curious look, and smiled. "Did you know, Tony Stark . . . you are not a very good liar."

He turned and left the room without another word.

The silence had gone on for a very long time.

Tony was doodling. He couldn't help it. He always had to have something to do, something to think about. Stillness didn't suit him, was impossible. What had started out as a simple frowny face was now an epic doodle of Nick Fury playing 'the floor is lava'. Tony wasn't even really aware of what he was drawing. His brain whirred away while his hands acted of their own accord.

After a while, Coulson said, conversationally, "Do you play chess?"

"Uh," Tony said, "I know how. That type of game has never been my style. And it's not like we have a chess board."

"Well, no," Coulson said, "but you could keep track of the moves on your paper. I just thought it might help keep us occupied."

Tony stared down at the sheet of paper and the doodle. He remembered playing backgammon with Yinsen. The doctor had beaten him almost every time. Yinsen had been smart. Smarter than Tony had given him credit for. He owed his life to him, after all. After his encounter with the 'walking death'. The weapon he had built.

"Mr. Stark?" Coulson asked. "Are you okay in there?"

Tony realized abruptly that his hand was curled tightly over the arc reactor in his chest. He cleared his throat hastily and said, "Oh, yeah, I'm just peachy. You know. Chillin'. Not much of a chess player. If we could pass the paper back and forth I'd say tic-tac-toe, that's about where my genius level feels like it's at, if you know what I'm saying."

"Hm. The window is a problem," Coulson agreed, as if the fact that it hindered their ability to play tic-tac-toe was currently their biggest problem. "I suppose we could always play some sort of verbal game. Twenty questions or some such. Or Botticelli. I've always been particularly partial to Botticelli."

"How can you be so calm?" Tony burst out suddenly. "I mean, seriously. I've wondered on occasion if you're a robot, but actually I think I've created robots with more emotions than you."

There was a pause. Then Coulson said, "It doesn't do any good to get upset. Yes, I'm frightened. Of course I am. But letting that interfere with the way I think won't help. Right now, there doesn't appear to be anything we can do. It's possible one of us could get out the next time the door opens, but frankly it's unlikely, and even if we did, the chances that we could escape from the facility are remote. It's safer to wait here until SHIELD finds us."

"Yeah," Tony muttered. He thought again of Yinsen. I'm sure they're looking for you . . . but they will never find you.

"They won't cause either of us permanent damage," Coulson continued, "at least, not for a while. Eventually they may decide I'm not suitably motivating and move on to a different target for leverage. But that won't happen right away. So all we have to do is survive long enough to give Director Fury and the other Avengers the chance to figure out where we've gone."

"Yeah," Tony repeated. He suddenly felt tired. "Sorry, you know, sorry I called you a robot."

"It's all right," Coulson said. "You hold robots in very high regard. Maybe I should take it as a compliment."

"Yeah, sure, take it that way," Tony said, thinking that if he could convince whoever was listening that he really didn't like Coulson, maybe that would help. They would torture him anyway, but it might put a dent in their zeal. "Whatever you want. So. Botticelli? How does that work again, something about guessing who painted something I probably own the original of?"

"Your art is more modern than that. But you've got the idea."

They played three rounds. Tony guessed Isaac Asimov, Coulson guessed Nikola Tesla, and then stumped Tony for nearly an hour before he finally got Shel Silverstein. All the while Tony doodled, filling sheet after sheet with the Avengers fighting different mythical monsters.

"Hey," he finally said. "What do you think I should do?"

"You mean, should you give them the weapon designs?" Coulson asked.

"Yeah."

"What they ask, is it even possible?"

"You mean, could I reproduce the blueprints from memory? Probably, yeah." Tony thought he could probably put in a couple glitches here and there that would cause them to blow themselves up, but there was no way he was saying that out loud. Not with those people listening. Besides, he was sure that Ring Two wouldn't attend the actual testing. Deliberately screwing up would only give them an excuse to hurt Coulson. "But you know that once I did that, they'll just demand something else."

"Of course," Coulson said. He was quiet for a minute. "Mr. Stark, I can't tell you what to do. Understand that I've had training on how to deal with this sort of situation, but nothing really prepares you for it. I would understand one hundred percent and support you if you chose not to give them anything. But I would also understand if you feel that's something that you can't handle. That's a choice you're going to have to make for yourself. It's not one I can make for you."

"Thanks," Tony said. "That makes me feel much better."

Pepper's tapping foot was a sight feared to all Stark Industries employees. Whenever her foot started tapping like that, it meant something was not according to plan. It usually meant that Tony was late, drunk, recalcitrant, or otherwise driving her insane. So it was that morning, as her foot tapped away at the marble floor while she waited for Tony to put in an appearance at the board meeting.

Of course, missing them was fairly common for him, so she held the meeting as if nothing was wrong. Afterwards, she took the elevator up to the penthouse suite. "Jarvis, do you know where Tony's at?" she asked, as the elevator doors slid closed behind her. "I texted him but he didn't reply."

"I'm sorry, Miss Potts," Jarvis said, "but I haven't seen Mr. Stark in over twenty-four hours."

"He didn't come home last night after the fundraiser?" In the past, Pepper would have merely rolled her eyes and perhaps muttered 'typical'. If Tony had gone to a hotel with some bimbo, she was going to have sharp words with him. It didn't seem like him of late, though. Ever since they had gotten serious, he had kept his wandering to his eyes and occasionally hands.

"No. Would you like me to contact him?"

"If you could, please." Pepper sighed and went into the kitchen, where Dummy brought her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. It had taken Tony eight hours to train the robot how to use the juicer, all of which had been liberally filled with affectionate abuse. Pepper gave Dummy an absent pat on the head and sipped her juice while she reviewed the day's schedule.

"Mr. Stark is not answering my calls," Jarvis said a few minutes later.

Pepper looked up and frowned. "Well, try the GPS locator in his phone."

"I'm afraid I already did," Jarvis said, "and it seems to be offline."

Pepper set down her juice with a thump. "Is it just that his phone off?"

"No, I'm able to turn it on remotely, so if that were the case I would know. I can also supply it with power if the battery runs low, and that isn't the problem either. As far as I can tell, his phone must have been dismantled, in order to produce such a response."

After taking a deep breath, Pepper said, "Call Director Fury. I need to see him as soon as possible."

Steve gave Pepper a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he walked into the conference room. It was true that he and Tony didn't always see eye-to-eye, but he respected the other man, and he liked Pepper. He had been in the gym when he got the call, and was still wearing a loose T-shirt and sweat pants. Bruce was already sitting at the table, fiddling with his smartphone and looking uncomfortable. Natasha was sipping a coffee. Steve didn't see Clint, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. A quick glance up at the ledge that Tony had built around the room confirmed that he was.

That meant he was the last one there, since nobody had a way to get in touch with Thor when he wasn't on Earth. Fury was standing at the head of the table, looking the same as he always did. "Sorry for holding things up," Steve said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"I just got here myself," Bruce said, hitting a button on his phone and tucking it away.

Steve realized that they weren't actually all there. Coulson was such a ubiquitous presence that he almost didn't see him anymore, but there was no way that he would miss a meeting of such importance. "Where's Agent Coulson?"

"He didn't respond to my text," Fury said brusquely. The words hit the room like a bomb, and for a moment, everyone simply stared at him. Tony could have just been playing a prank, distracted by something fast or shiny, off the grid for his own reasons. But Coulson? That was something else again. None of the people present could imagine a world in which the words 'he didn't respond to my text' could refer to Coulson if a disaster hadn't struck.

"When was the last time either of them were seen?" Natasha asked.

"Tony was at that fundraiser last night," Pepper said. "I spoke to him not long before he left. A lot of people saw him there, but nobody saw him leave. He sneaks out early a lot of the time, so that's not too surprising. But he never made it home afterwards. Jarvis confirmed that."

"Coulson was security at the fundraiser, wasn't he?" Clint asked from the ledge, his feet dangling over it. Fury glanced up and nodded confirmation. "Yeah, I saw him a couple of times, just moving around the crowd. You know how he is, your eyes skip right over him if you're not looking for him. There wasn't any sort of fuss, though. Maybe he saw Tony leave and decided to make sure that he made it to his car."

"Good theory," Steve said. "Security footage?"

"I'll pull it up." Pepper began tapping at her phone with a stylus. The fundraiser had been hosted in a building owned by Stark Industries, so it was easy to get through the layers of clearance and pulled up the cameras around the garage. It took her several minutes to find one that had view of Tony's car, and then she rewound to when he had arrived. Setting it to run on high speed, it took another five minutes to get all through the night, until the sun began to rise. Nobody had approached the car.

"So if something happened, it was inside the building," Natasha said. "Any way to figure out which way Tony would have left?"

Pepper rubbed a hand over her eyes and pulled up the building's schematics. "He would have taken the stairs, because reporters camp out by the elevators. There's a side door into the garage from the north stairwell here . . ." She hummed under her breath for a few moments until she got to the camera that focused on that door. It pulled up an image of an empty landing, and she sighed. "This isn't a high-security building," she said. "There isn't a camera on each floor. If this one didn't see him, we have no way of knowing what happened."

The footage continued to run in the background while Steve said, "Tony's irresponsible enough to just wander off, but I can't imagine he would have done it without letting you know, Pepper. He cares about you. With Agent Coulson missing as well, I think it's safe to assume that there's a third party involved. Out of all of us, Tony is the one who's made the most enemies."

"I presume you've attempted to locate Coulson's phone?" Natasha asked. Fury nodded. "So these people are savvy enough to know that just turning the phone off isn't good enough. They were clearly well-prepared. They knew where the cameras are and how to avoid them. They knew Tony's habits, knew he would avoid the elevator, so they've probably had surveillance on him for a while. But why take Coulson, too? That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he got in the way," Bruce suggested.

"Why not just kill him, then?" Natasha asked.

"If they didn't want to leave any evidence . . ."

"A missing billionaire playboy isn't evidence enough?" Natasha asked.

"She's right," Clint said. "They must have wanted Coulson specifically for something. We don't even know that he followed Tony to the garage. They could have taken him at some other point."

"Is it really relevant?" Bruce asked.

Natasha shrugged. "When you don't have any evidence to look at, you look at motive. That's all we've got to work with right now, if we want to figure out who these people are."

Fury nodded. "I'll start the SHIELD techs scrubbing the video, looking for anyone out of place, any inconsistencies. Miss Potts, I want you to sit down with Agent Romanov and Agent Barton and go through all the people Stark's pissed off in the last couple of years. That ought to take you a few days, but make it as quick as you can. We'll run a general search on anyone that we think could have been responsible. Dr. Banner . . . do some sort of science thing that'll help figure that out. Run an algorithm or something."

"What about me, sir?" Steve asked, seeing Bruce trying not to laugh and hoping Fury wouldn't notice.

"I want you to go to Agent Coulson's place. See if you think he's been there in the past twenty-four hours, if you notice anything unusual. Stark could have been kidnapped by anyone, so Coulson is the one we may need to focus on. Hill has a spare key for his apartment, I think."

Steve nodded. "I'm on it."

"Good. Clock's ticking, people," Fury said. "Get to work."