The Hollow Man

"Every love story is a ghost story."

-David Foster Wallace, The Pale King

Prologue

On the day that SHIELD and its warships sink into the Potomac, Rosie Grant is brewing coffee for Iron Man.

"The semi-retired Iron Man," Tony reminds her as he swivels around in his office chair. In his shiny silver suit and pressed white shirt, he looks as unretired as humanly possible. "And just a teensy bit more cream, please and thank you."

She adds another splash of cream and he hums with appreciation. "Not bad for a newbie. Are you sure you aren't a super secret agent planted by SHIELD to poison my beverages?"

"Mr. Stark," she says, "if I was a secret agent, I'd have better things to do than make your coffee."

He holds up a finger. "First: it's Tony. Second: I like to think SHIELD primarily exists to fetch me coffee. Fury wouldn't agree, but hey, no one really cares what he thinks."

"Sir…"

"Yeah?" he says to the ceiling, and then turning to Rosie, adds, "That's JARVIS, btw. You'll get used to him."

She's got a new boss who wears a flying suit and runs his very own A.I. Nope—she's pretty sure she's never getting used to this.

"Might I recommend you turn on channel 7?"

"Can't you see I'm busy? I'm getting my caffeine on," Tony replies. He kicks his feet up onto the desk.

"It's urgent, sir."

Tony sighs. "Fine, fine."

Rosie watches in fascination as a screen blinks into existence over Tony's desk, displaying footage of a fiery skyline. It takes her a long moment to put it together: the city is Washington, D.C.

Tony sits up, his face growing serious. "Oh Rogers, what have you done."

"Is something wrong, Mr—uh, Tony?" she asks.

"You sure you're not a SHIELD agent?"

She looks from him to the screen. "Pretty darn sure."

"Good. Because if you were, you'd be out of job," says Tony as he rises, pushing away from the desk. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get the suit ready."

"But sir, you're semi—"

"Make it snappy. They're gonna need some help fishing bodies out of that river."